


Love Makes Fools Of Us All

by BeatriixExtrange



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Feels, FrostIron - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki is a manipulative little shit but we all love him, M/M, Odin's A+ Parenting, Post-Reichenbach, SherLoki - Freeform, Sherlock has feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 58
Words: 126,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeatriixExtrange/pseuds/BeatriixExtrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain God of Mischief requires the help of a high-functioning sociopath in order to retrieve the objects the Avengers have taken from him. Sherlock has John, and between Loki and Tony Stark there is more than platonic love, but when the two collide, what will happen? Is just attraction or there is more to it? Rated M for later chapters. Sherloki, Johnlock, Frostiron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Who Entertains Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading, and please review. It's always good to know what I can improve :)

I was awakened by the horrible noise of the floor creaking. I hated that floor. It may be the only thing I disliked of 221B Baker Street. You couldn't walk without it making that creepy noise.

"I'll get John to fix it" I mumbled still half asleep. The noise stopped, and I grunted in approval, grateful I could drift back to that wonderful dream I was having.

Someone being in my apartment at such ungodly hours didn't bother the three-in-the-morning me. Not the half asleep me, at least. But there was no caffeine to change my zombie state, so it didn't bother me in the least. Unreasonable, looking in retrospective. But it could be John, trying to sneak into my bed.

A couple of moments later, the steps —and therefore, that dammed sound— continued. I buried my head behind the pillow, trying to muffle it. The person was getting closer. Argh, that just made those horrible creaks louder.

"John, not now. It's very late; we'll have sex in the morning. Just go to sleep."

I heard a supressed chuckle beside my bed, and then the friction of leather and metal when the person leaned closer to me. Well,  _now_  caffeine wasn't needed to awake me. Slowly, I turned my back to face the intruder, silently praying for him not to be Moriarty.

I'd grown quite… irritated to the man, to put it in mild words. He had been fun, though. Innerving, but fun.

But I didn't see the consulting criminal's face, but a very different one. Piercing but amused green eyes, alabaster skin, framed by long strands of raven black hair. The small greenish flame coming from the tip of one of his long and slender fingers left half his face in mysterious yet fascinating shadow.

"Who… who are you? What… are you doing in here? What time is it?" I asked, confused by the closeness. I could smell his scent, a mix of winter and forest I liked instantly. "What the hell is  _that_?" I said, pointing at his finger.

"So many questions, so eager to know. Surely you, the great Sherlock, can deduce some of the answers. Or are you not even worth my trip to this realm?" asked cockily the man, arching an elegant eyebrow in my direction.

Quickly I stared at the man, collecting any information that could be of use. His clothes were obviously not of this world, as the fabric —and style, but with all the crazy fashion around that could mean nothing— was not something I had ever seen before. His words and accent were not something English, either. Realm, had he said? Was he referring to England or to the Earth? And that voice… He certainly had a beautiful voice, the Nordic accent only making it sexier.

But the most disturbing thing about him was that blue-green flame. Wasn't he burning? Why? How could he produce it?

"I assume you are not from… here." I answered slowly, suddenly unsure. I was  _never_  unsure. What was happening? "Here meaning Earth. But you do have a northern accent, maybe Nordic, am I wrong?"

"All worlds have north, little Midgardian. But you are right, indeed. I am what you would call a Norse God." He stood and lifted his chin. "I am Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Trickery. And you, my little newly met friend, will do as I command in order to help me get back what is mine." His eyes blazed with anger, turning them into two green flames. I could only think about getting out of the way of this god.

But it was me, and I was tired and pissed by the interruption of sleep and beautiful red-panted dreams. And, worst of all, I was  _bored_.

"Why should I? It's not as I didn't have any other things to do but helping Norse gods in distress. And, by God's sake, it's three in the morning." The green-eyed god made a face at the expression. "Client opening hours is between nine and five. Come back tomorrow. Or today. Whenever pleases you." I said, lying back down on the mattress, moving my hand in the air.

"Are you dismissing  _me_?" Loki hissed. "Have you even listened to what I have said? I. Am. A. God. You have not the right to dismiss me." The blankets were pulled away from my body, but no hand was behind that. "You are going to help me or I swear you'll regret the day you were born."

I saw a green ray of light and I was suddenly floating, head down, my hair touching the floor. "What the hell do you think you are doing? I don't care if you are a god or the Spirit of Christmas, you don't tell me what to do!" I started to kick the air, trying to reach him. "Put me down! How do you even do this?!"

Loki rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I thought you were smart." He moved his finger on fire, making the little flame to flutter. "Magic. I am a sorcerer. A great one, if I may add." His face darkened. "And because I'm a sorcerer I need my magic. Which has been stripped away from me by those insignificant Avengers." He explained.

"Well, call me paranoiac, but this doesn't seem non-magical to me." I commented, pointing myself. He stared at me for a couple of seconds, before realizing what I was referring to. With a fluid movement of his left hand, I turned in the air and stood there, mid-air, not reaching with my feet to the ground.

"Not all my magic depends on the magical objects. They are useful, and amplify my powers, but it's me who… I don't even know why do I bother explaining this to a Midgardian like you." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, I'm sure I can… pay you somehow." He added mischievously.

"I don't care about the money."

"Oh, but you are looking for something to amuse yourself, aren't you? Boredom is one of the most powerful motivations, trust me." The God of Mischief said, taking a step closer to me. "Throughout the centuries I have seen that. It's not unusual to see wars sprung by mere boredom." Another step. He was only a few centimetres away from me. "I can offer you multiple ways of entertainment." Purred the man, pressing his long and pale finger behind my chin.

I couldn't help the response of my groin at the proposition, but sure as hell I could choose what my mouth would say. I chuckled. "Well, I already have someone to entertain me in that aspect. He is a soldier and is currently sleeping in the bedroom next door. Such a pity. I'm sure that in another occasion…" I trailed off when I saw the glare he was throwing at me. "No need to make a fuss out of this. You surely have a long queue of volunteers waiting for you where you come from."

"Why would you assume that?" Loki asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

"I just thought… It's not that way? Impressive."

"Who said it is not? I just asked why you thought that."

"Well, being a sorcerer… And a god, it sure makes things easy. And with your face. Any other hidden talents I should know about?"

"Again, what makes you think you should know anything about me? And, by the way, I am a prince." He said this last bitterly, making me want to ask, but I didn't, as it didn't seem appropriate. I laughed inside. I, Sherlock Holmes, high-functioning sociopath, knew what was  _appropriate_.

"Since we are working together", I refused to say  _work for you_. No way. "I guess knowing about you is just the obvious step. That's what John says. The one who  _entertains_  me." I explained, watching the confused face the god made.

A second later, he opened his mouth slightly, taking in what I had just said. "And the payment?" Loki asked.

"I'll think of something." I beamed the best smile I could manage. "Now, Prince Loki of Asgard, sorcerer and the one who lacks of a queue of eager mates waiting for him, I would really appreciate if my feet touched the ground. Not really used to floating, you know?"

With an amused smile, the moved his left hand. His right index finger still had the little flame at the tip. I found myself slowly descending until I heard that stupid creak the floor did every time someone stood on it or walked.

A little unstable, I stumbled to the bed and crawled inside. I decided to pull the blankets to my nose, seeing the look the God of Mischief gave me.

"So… I'll see you tomorrow? We are not going to start this… task now, are we?" I asked, uncertain. If the god was crazy enough as to sneak into my bedroom at night, he could easily think we would start  _now_.

His face softened. "I'll let you sleep. We'll start tomorrow morning. Be ready." And he disappeared in a puff of green smoke. And I thought Moriarty was my biggest problem.

Nothing compared to a certain God of Mischief.


	2. The One With The Sceptre And The Helmet.

I woke up to the same sound as the last time; that dammed creak coming from the floor when it's walked upon.

But this time I knew it was John, by the smooth pace of his feet, by the confidence of his steps. I let him open the door of my bedroom and crawl up into my sheets, without moving a single muscle. John loved to wake me up by kissing me all over my body.

He put himself upon me, legs at each side of my body, and started leaving little kisses in my neck, the most exposed part of my body as I was now. I arched towards his lips automatically, soft groans escaping my throat.

John smiled without stopping. He moved upwards to my ear, biting my earlobe, sucking and licking it. I still didn't make any obvious move to let him know I was awake, so he slid his hand under the top of my pyjamas, caressing my chest. He pinched my left nipple, and I gasped, opening my eyes.

I heard John laugh beside my ear, kissing me until he reached my mouth. He then stopped and pulled away a little, allowing me to admire his face. Oh my, that face.

I groaned and placed a hand behind his neck to pull him to my lips. I kissed him passionately, tongues intertwining. I ran my hands through his fair hair, loving his scent, the scent of John; sandalwood and soap and that thing that made it unique.

He rolled to the side and suddenly froze. John sat up on the bed and turned to see the other side of the bed. What was going on with him? I purred in protest and I also got up, annoyed by the lack of reaction of the man.

"John, what–" I started to say, but he cut me off.

"Sherlock, I hope you have a _really_ good explanation for this." His voice was as cold as ice.

I looked the direction he was throwing daggers at, and couldn't help the "Oh, shit" that escaped my lips.

A mess of raven black strands was spread in the pillow, the rest of the body hidden beneath the sheets. Gingerly I touched the shoulder attached to it, shaking the god.

"John, this is not even remotely what you think it is. This is Loki, a… client. Or a future one. I don't know why is he here, or why…" Loki didn't move, nor make a sign of him being even alive, which really annoyed me. He dared leaving me alone with this situation? No way. "Loki, dammit, wake the hell up!" I shouted, pulling the sheets away, hoping that would disturb his sleep. It did, but the action also showed the nakedness of the god.

"SHERLOCK, WHY IS HE IN YOUR BED IF HE'S A CLIENT? AND WHY IS HE NAKED?" John demanded, clearly pissed.

Fortunately, Loki was now awake enough as to answer that himself.

"Hey, no need to be so noisy first hour in the morning." He said, rubbing his eyes. That bastard. "I came yesterday night –or today, as you please– but Sherlock politely told me it wasn't a client opening hour, so I was disposing to leave when he offered I spent the night here. I was compelled to oblige, as you may imagine." Loki explained, giving me a smirk. Worst is, he said it with so much confidence anyone would think he was speaking the truth.

I wanted to slap that smirk out of his pale face.

"Okay, so, first of all, I should say no. That's so _no_ how it happened. Second, Loki is the God of Mischief and Lies, so please John, keep that in mind. He _lies_." I said, before John would have the opportunity to storm out of the room. "Loki came in here without my consent or knowledge, demanding I helped him get back only-God-knows what magical stuff."  I knew exactly what he had asked me to do, but I wasn't giving the god that satisfaction. "I had to forcibly agree and then he disappeared in green smoke. Just like in the movies, John. End of the story. I really don't know what is he doing here now."

"Oh, so a naked god enters your room and you don't think it's strange? Really, Sherlock? How do I know you are telling the truth?" Said John, glaring both Loki and me.

"I really thought you were smarter…" I mumbled. "And he wasn't naked the last time I saw him! Tell me, John, when do I tell people things politely?"

That left him thinking for a moment. Finally, he sighed. "I'll go make breakfast. Don't do something you might regret." He warned, but to whom I wasn't sure, if Loki or me. 

He left my room, red briefs flashing under his tee. Uh, I loved those. I got up and I started to smooth out my pyjamas to remove the wrinkles, trying to look annoyed by the presence of the god.

I glanced at Loki, who was still lying in the mattress, unaware of anything not being him. He turned his back and fixed his eyes on me.

"Like what you see?" The god asked mischievously, raising an eyebrow. I didn't answer, and just stood there. After a couple of seconds, I walked to the edge of the bed where he was lying, and dug a finger in his flesh, making the god wince in surprise.

"Get up and go out. I need to change clothes." I told him, fully aware of what that meant; he would be in the corridor completely naked.

"No need to get things that far. We barely know each other, and you already want to present me? Such hurry. There's plenty of time, Sherlock." He purred.

"Out." He pouted and cheekily crawled out of bed, letting me see his whole body. I rolled my eyes and walked towards the closet.

I heard the door closing and a pair of feet entering the kitchen. Seriously? I shook my head and quickly dressed.

 

When I reached the living room, I couldn't help but to gape at the scene. Loki was sprawled in the sofa, still completely naked, carelessly sipping a cup of what presumably was tea, while John eyed him from the other corner of the room, full of caution, suspicion and shock.

"Well now, it seems that you have finally finished." Loki said, a content smile spreading in his face. "We shall start then."

Moving his hand in the air, the god suddenly was fully dressed in green leather and golden metal.

"Why have you waited if you could have done that at any moment?" John asked, visibly irritated.

"I don't know." Answered the man, giving me a look I didn't like in the slightest.

John grunted something I didn't understand, but let it go. "Let's get this over with. What do you want?" He asked the god dryly.

Loki had the face to play offended. "Such rudeness. I expected more from you Midgardians. Specially after last night." He added.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Stop saying those things or the next thing coming from your mouth will be your teeth." John threatened.

"Oh, little entertainment is jealous? Look, Sherlock, he really likes you!" But after the intimidating look the _entertainment_ shot him, he shut up. "Alright, alright. By the Nine. Nothing happened. I was _lying_. Satisfied now?"

I gazed at John, with a I–told–you–didn't–I look. He sighed. "Get to the point. What do you want?" He repeated.

Loki instantly changed his body language. No more jokes now. He leaned forth in his seat, piercing us with his stare before speaking.

"I need you to help me get back something. That group of insignificant ants that call themselves Avengers stole it from me. I want it back, as I need them." The god explained.

"What are those objects?" I asked.

"Magical ones. I recall telling you this. Have you forgotten?"

"No, I don't forget. I am asking what they are _exactly_. A wand, a crystal ball, an invisibility ring?" I explained, annoyed.

"Don't be stupid. Those are just useless. Who uses a wand nowadays?" Answered the god, dismissing the thought with his hand. "They are my sceptre and my helmet. I believe they are in the Avengers headquarters."

"And where's that?" John intervened.

"In the city you call New York. In the tower belonging to Tony Stark." I noticed the way he said the name, with resentment and care, as if that Stark man had betrayed him in some way. I chose not to ask.

Loki swiped moods again. "What do you have for breakfast? I'm starving, and your lover here only offered me tea." He commented nonchalantly, heading towards the kitchen as if he were home.

Seriously, who can keep up with this man?


	3. Comments, Threats And Assassination Plots.

I went to the kitchen, in what I knew was a carefree façade. I couldn’t help it, my barriers had just went up. I shouldn’t have mentioned Stark. Thinking about him still was painful; about what we were, about what we had done… About what _he_ had done. And saying his name out loud, even out of context… It had been too much for me to handle. Too soon.

I rummaged through the drawers and shelves, looking for something to eat. Something at least vaguely familiar. Midgardian food wasn’t what I could call tasty, so I usually had a tough time finding meals. Yes, I knew tea. Who doesn’t know tea? The basis were the same as in Asgard, but not the way it was cooked, nor the sauces and spices.

I opened a wardrobe–like piece of furniture and surprised myself when cold air came from the inside.

"What is this? Do you keep ice in here?" I asked, curious. I put my hands inside, feeling the chill around my skin. It had been long since I had last felt such low temperature. I loved it. A purr escaped my lips.

"That's a _fridge_. Haven't you seen one before?" Sherlock answered, raising an eyebrow.

A fridge. There was one in Stark Tower, wasn't it? I guess there was. I guess someone had explained what it was to me. But I didn't really remember. I didn't care about it, either.

Sherlock shoved me aside, looking for something presumably edible in the fridge. A moment later, he withdrew his hands, holding three eggs in each one.

"Time for breakfast. _Real_ breakfast." He announced with a wink in my direction. That surprised me, I thought Sherlock had his little human —what was his name?— as a consort. Problems in paradise, maybe?

"John is always trying to make me eat more healthy and quit smoking. I keep telling him that's a waste of time, as I need to distract myself and cigarettes help me concentrate." He told me while preparing whatever he was cooking. "You know, vegetables, fruit, nothing _good_. Pass me the milk." He asked. I handled him the bottle of what I supposed was milk.

"What is that?" I leaned over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He had mixed the eggs and the milk, creating an orange liquid. "Is that even food? Certainly it doesn't look like food."

Sherlock only chuckled. "This, you god, is the best thing you may taste in England. Or in the world, for that matter. Ever."

"Not in my world. Asgard's food is quite different, I'm afraid. It is mostly… solid?"

"Who said this wasn't?" The detective poured the mix on a pot and started to make circles with a spoon.

A couple of minutes later, what was in the pot was, indeed, solid. Or semisolid. Sherlock tsked. "I forgot the toasts. Loki, make some toasts. I think six will be enough. It's going to get cold, though."

I took the bread and made toasts with my magic. I handled them to the detective, who smiled crookedly. He didn't seem surprised that it had taken hardly time to make them.

"Thank you. John, breakfast's ready!" He took the plates to the living room, and placed them in the table there. It wasn't as covered by piles of paper as the kitchen table, but still was quite full, so John had to put them aside, carefully not to mess them.

I gingerly sat down on one of the chairs, still looking nonchalant. I was truly curious about the dish, though.

"And how is this… thing supposed to be called?" I said, stabbing the food with a fork.

"It's scrambled eggs, and it's now going to attack you, so stop doing that and eat it." Sherlock answered. "Coffee?"

I nodded. "No milk, two sugar."

"I'm not your maid. I'm sure you can help yourself." He pointed where the sugar was with a lazy finger.

Startled but amused by the sudden mood change, I poured myself a cup of coffee —another thing we _did_ have in Asgard—. I noticed the so called sociopath staring at me from the corner of the eye, which only amused me more because of the glares his lover was throwing at me.

If only he knew what I would do if I truly wanted to make Sherlock mine…

I sat back on the chair, and cautiously y dared trying the scrambled eggs. After a sip of the coffee to alleviate the taste, I put the food in my mouth. It was pretty good. The best thing I'd had in Midgard, actually.

But it's not as I was going to tell Sherlock that.

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes, in which none of us said a thing. The entertainment was clearly trying to call Sherlock's attention, who was completely oblivious to him and focused his gaze on me.

I stopped eating and raised my eyes to his'. "Like what you see?"

"Not in the least. I already told you I have my own entertainment." His glance didn't even flicker in the other's direction, who eyed us with disconcert.

"Then why all this study? You see, do not misunderstand me, I do love to be observed, but there is always a reason behind it."

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, supporting his head on the tips of his fingers. "I am studying _you_ , not this façade you have built up a minute ago. I am just collecting data about you. The way you do insignificant things, too small to cover their true nature, is what tells me who you are, rather than your bigger actions."

"Oh really?" Now I was curious. I wanted to know what he had discovered and how. It would be useful the next time I tried to hide. The mere fact that he knew I was posing a façade was quite unexpected.

John cleared his throat, a deep frown in his face. "Are you finished? I'll go take the plates." Such a killjoy. Our little conversation was coming to its climax, and I was enjoying it profoundly.

I let a soft hiss from my lips.

"Sherlock, help me." The other said, tugging at the man’s neat suit's sleeve. Sherlock got up, and took a mug in his hand before mumbling something I couldn't quite make out, but sounded disturbingly similar to my mother language's swearing. Could it be possible he knew old Norse? No, it couldn’t be. I shook my head to erase the thought.

They went to the kitchen, where I could hear them talking perfectly.

"Sherlock, what are you doing? All the stares and the eyes and the mysterious comments. What game are you playing with him?" John asked, irritated.

"He's a client. I thought I told you before. Why else would he be here?"

"I don't know, you tell me. Since when do you try to make small talk? You _never_ make small talk."

"I'm not playing any… Oh, John, come on, you know me! I need to do something refreshing, if not I get bored! Is it too bad for me to have some harmless fun with him? Please?" I could almost hear the big fake smile he had plastered all over his face.

"Alright, but I still don't trust him. I don't like the way he looks at you."

I had to suppress a laugh at that, and couldn't help myself anymore. "You know I can hear you both plotting my assassination, right? God thing." I shouted. I got up to go to the kitchen too, but decided to make an entrance and appeared from the thin air in front of their faces instead. The look on their faces was priceless.

"It's so cute that you have finally declared your feelings for me; I think I'm about to faint." I told the man wearing a jumper and a shocked expression. "Anyway, I am, apart from a customer, someone who has eyes. And someone who has eyes can see you don't like me. Even someone blind can. Your jealousy is _adorable_. My point is. I. Do. Not. Care." I leaned closer, digging a finger in his chest with each word. "And stop telling Sherlock what to do because frankly, he is the only one that matters. I could kill you as easily as I killed an ant. And if you don't quit bothering me, I'll do it. Understood?"

He swallowed and nodded, hurt pride flashing in his eyes. I turned to Sherlock, who was cautious but curious, like he was before a wild animal that fascinated him.

"Now, if you are so kind as to follow me. I'll fill you into the rest of the details. Breakfast is over."

I exited the room, fully aware of the two pair of eyes exchanging looks before one of them went after me.


	4. The One Who Studies Mugs

I really couldn't understand the god. One moment he was all sassy and the next one he was threatening John. I rolled my eyes, even if no one could see me do it.

I followed Loki into the living room, and took a seat by the fireplace, while he took the other.

The god tilted his head, eyeing me carefully. “Are you not angry because I threatened your lover?” He asked.

“Why should I? My anger won't solve it. And emotions are useless. They only make you worry over stupid things. No, I am not angry.” I answered, as if it were the simplest thing. It wasn't, _of course_ , but that didn't matter.

He shrugged and took the empty mug of tea I had left there the night before. I saw him twiddle with it between his hands, playing with those incredibly long fingers of his.

Those little things were the ones I studied. The ones I had told him about. Almost told.

Movements of the hands, flashes of emotions behind the eyes after some clue words are spoken, the tongue. Oh, the tongue. No one minds the tongue. But it's one of the biggest sources of information when someone is trying to hide his own nature. It moves, it twirls, it darts, it throws poisonous words. But no one can stop it, no one can control it.

I can see it.

While I was thinking about this, the god continued to absentmindedly toy with the mug, as if he were studying it. His eyes were fixated on the object, never leaving it. Finally, Loki spoke, slowly, calculating his words.

“You know… last year, there was a battle, right? In New York. There were… creatures, the Chitauri, they were called. Well… I was in that battle. I was leading the Chitauri.” He lifted his eyes, but avoided mine.

“I know.” I said. It was true. It hadn't been too difficult to join all the pieces. Loki wasn't one of the called Avengers, and he definitely wasn't one of the Chitauri. Yet he appeared in multiple footages of the fight.

He met my gaze, surprised and… relieved? I couldn't tell, emotions were not my strong point. “You do?” Loki narrowed his eyes, realizing something. “If you did, why didn't you call the police when you knew who I was?”

“You are free. Shouldn't that count?” The god threw me a glance. I rolled my eyes. “I was bored.”  He seemed to accept that answer better, and let it go.

“After the fight, I was captured. I went to Asgard, where my trial started. That’s when it was discovered that I had been tortured to conquer Midgard. I do not have the smallest desire to rule this planet that has no magic. But what I had done was a crime nevertheless. Because of my status and lineage, I was sentenced to remain in Midgard —here— without most of my magical powers, serving the Avengers I once fought.” He shuddered. “They weren't allowed to cause me any physical damage, but there are other forms of harm. They psychologically abused me and wouldn’t let me have a full night of straight sleep. It's obvious that they weren't happy to have me there without being able to touch me.” Loki explained. He made a pause, and I could only imagine what he had to have suffered. Even if he was a criminal.

The mug continued in his hands, completely forgotten.

“Where were the helmet and the sceptre at that time?” I asked, unable to bear the silence that had fallen amongst us.

“I guess they were back in Asgard, in the weaponry room, where they usually are if I do not require them. I was given them back after some time of my being here.” He swallowed. “I… The only one of the Avengers who didn’t take part in my torture was Anthony Stark. Iron Man. He was actually kind, and talked with me as he would talk with anybody else. We became… friends.” His voice had started to falter slightly. “At first he accompanied me when I was unable to sleep, or was with me while the others just kept the distance, or things like that. But after some time he even convinced the others to leave me alone, and then everything went quite better.”

Loki smiled absentmindedly at the memory, but continued. “No one but time can make miracles, though. So I still had to wait a couple of months more to get to have a _normal_ relationship whit them. I had tried to kill all of them, you know. But I guess knowing that I had been tortured to it helped me. After some of the reports the Avengers sent to Asgard I was given my magic back, as well as the so-called sceptre and helmet.” He smiled, or kind of.

“Then… well, I was grateful to Stark for helping me, and those emotions evolved into feelings. Thing is, we ended up as lovers, as you and your little entertainment are.” The god looked at me sideways, trying to read my reaction.

“If your life was so wonderful why are you here now?” I teased.

He simply tsked, but I could see his body language stiffening with anger. “A couple of days ago everything changed. From day to night, I was back to the indifference and the distance. I didn’t know why. My magic was restrained again, and as you have surely deduced, my possessions had disappeared.”

He seemed to have ended, but there was still a part he hadn’t told me.

“What happened then?”

“I do not understand the question.” Loki tilted his head.

“What happened between you discovered that and entered my bedroom at night?” I reformulate the question.

“Oh.” He considered the question for a couple of moments. “I asked Stark if he knew what had occurred to my magic, but he only looked at me in disdain and accused me of betraying him, of betraying all of them. After that…” He looked away, ashamed. “I… fled.”

I slowly closed my eyes and started to think. The _why_ that had happened would be a fine start. Loki hadn’t asked it, so it was my task to discover all the things he had not.

Something had changed… If Loki had done nothing, and I gave him credit enough as for him to know if he had done something, someone else must have done it. Someone who didn’t appreciate Loki’s new life. If he just despised him he —or she— would have done it when he was at his worst, to make sure he wouldn’t recover.

But _what_ had been done? The answer came as easy as ever. It wasn’t a _done_ , but a _said_. Loki had been prisoner of the Avengers, so he couldn’t go out and plot freely, neither could he know if someone was plotting against him. And words were something powerful, and more for someone who knew how to use them. A sorcerer, for example. Someone who needed words to work his magic.

It must be someone trustworthy enough for the Avengers to believe him by only words. Or maybe he also had proof. Some of Loki’s old mischiefs? No, his first and only attempt of great chaos had been the New York one, and he was captured and tried for it.

This thing he was being accused of couldn’t be that important, or at least illegal, according to Asgard’s and Earth’s laws. The god wouldn’t have been allowed to ran away if it were. But it was, nevertheless, something bad enough as to make the involved one lose all respect or esteem from the ones who know it. Some kind of defamation.

“Do you know someone who wasn’t pleased with your sentence? A sorcerer or someone who uses magic. He or she is important in Asgard. People would listen to him or her.” I asked.

Loki opened his eyes in disbelief and realization. “I know who exactly is. I knew she would do something like this, but not so soon…” He stood up. “We have to go now. Sherlock, take the indispensable, we are going.”

“Shouldn’t _I_ have something to say in that?” I inquired, arching an eyebrow. “Who is she?”

He just rolled his eyes, impatient. “Right, you can bring your lover along. John! Come here! Sherlock needs you!” Loki shouted shamelessly.

John’s head appeared behind the doorframe. “What?” He grunted.

“Sherlock needs you to entertain him while we are out. So you are coming. Hurry.” John narrowed his eyes and looked at me. I sighed, and went to his side, eyeing Loki in the mirror.

“I’ll give you ten minutes. Then, I’ll teleport you, ready or not.” The god announced. I heard John mumble beside me.

“Sherlock, what is this all about? Are we seriously going with this man… _where_?” He asked, annoyed. We were already in the corridor, off the sight of that unnervingly cocky god. I grabbed his ass for a moment, and kissed him lightly in the lips.

“John, I sense a great mystery. _Please_. Let’s go.” I begged, giving him the best puppy eyes I could manage. It worked. He sighed, and looked me in the eyes, pulling me into a deep kiss. I answered it eagerly, craving his touch after this morning’s disruption. I heard him moan softly, and I slid a hand down his spine to his butt, sensing the fabric of the red pants under my fingertips.

“Eight minutes! By the Nine, stop making out where I can hear you!” Loki sounded tremendously amused, and I swear in that moment I had to supress the urge of strangling him. For the sake of not being bored again.

Reticently I got away from John. “I really don’t like him.”

I silently laughed at the irony. I _did_ like the god.


	5. War, Mercy & Bubbles

I heard them kissing in the corridor, and since I hadn’t had my own session of kisses or sex in nearly a week, I thought it would only be fair if they neither did.

“Eight minutes! By the Nine, stop making out where I can hear you!” I screamed, successfully turning them off. After that, Sherlock’s little lover whispered.

“I really don’t like him.”

I could do nothing but chuckle at that. It was so obvious he disliked me. If only he knew how amusing it was for me to tease him. I heard them entering their respective rooms and I grinned.

But then, I pondered about the situation. I had not only abandoned the Stark Tower, but also she had betrayed me. How dared she.

The bitch. I hissed, already thinking in ways of revenge. They went from pranks to real evil, and I couldn't but take pleasure in the thoughts rushing my mind.

But now wasn't the time to think about it. I would have time ahead to plan something appropriate. Now I had to prepare carefully our trip to New York.

It wouldn't be easy; Stark Tower wasn't some easy place to get into. Stark himself had programmed all and each one of the guards, and I recalled that even that assassin, Romanoff, had had a tough time infiltrating. Even if it was just for fun.

But we didn't have to go straightaway to the Avenger headquarters. We could spend a couple of days in a hotel. Maybe I could get rid of John and show Sherlock some quality time… I shivered at the thought, as it brought memories I preferred to leave in a corner in the back of my mind. Memories of the _quality time_ I had spent with a so-called Mr. Stark.

* * *

That day it was cold. It was usually colder in Midgard, anyway, but it was winter, so it was the thing to be expected. It's not as I cared about such banal things as weather. I am a god, after all. Weather could be modelled to my desires, if I wanted so.

I looked away at the window, studying the room inside the building. It had been some months since I first arrived here. At this point things in my life were rather nice. I was not picked on anymore, thanks to Tony, who had proved to be quite a lover. I purred by simply remembering the restless nights with him.

Romanoff and the archer, Clint, were seated in the sofa, cuddling while watching a film. No one else was in the lounge, but I could hear the scientist in the kitchen. I liked him. Bruce had even apologized for the other guy's actions, aka smashing me into the ground senseless. And he had called me puny god. Me. Puny. How dared he. The other guy, I mean. The big green one. I couldn't picture Bruce harming a fly. He had, indeed, been the first one to stop bullying me.

I stretched and stood up. How much time had I been there? I had been practicing magic, and I always lost track of time in those cases. I entered the tower, and headed straight to Stark's room. Or chambers. They were certainly huge. I eyed the couple in the sofa, and felt a mighty urge to get to the bedroom.

Stark wouldn't be there; he was in the workshop most of the time, and only left his lair to eat and sleep. Well, or don't sleep…

I took the lift to the attic and waited impatiently for the machine to get me there. Ugh, human machinery. So bothersome. How could people survive without magic? It was a question I made myself almost every day. The box finally reached the top floor and I walked outside, entering the massive bedroom.

It was not bigger than my own chambers back in Asgard, but it was so different. The furniture was all in black and white, all angles. There were screens and panels everywhere, and the genius could produce more from the most weird places. In the middle of the bedroom there was the huge bed, where theoretically four people could sleep. Truth was, neither Stark nor I liked to sleep much. We had other things in mind when we saw the bed.

I went into the bathroom and glanced towards the jacuzzi. I could use some bubbles right now. I looked to the ceiling, as I did every time I had to talk to that being called Jarvis.

"Jarvis, I'd like to take a bath. With bubbles. Can you make bubbles?" I felt ridiculous talking to the ceiling.

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. Your bath will be prepared soon. I'll make extra bubbles for you." The AI answered, and water started to fill the jacuzzi, making a layer of foam in the bottom. "Anything else I may help you with? Do you wish me to call Mr. Stark? I'm sure he would be pleased to be informed." He added. If he were a person he would be smiling.

I had actually thought of waiting for him to come up, but now _that_ seemed like a great idea. Sex in the jacuzzi. "Yes, Jarvis, that would be very helpful. Thank you."

By then the bathtub was almost full, so I undressed myself and got into the warm water, groaning at the temperature. Even if I was a Frost Giant, I still loved hot baths.

Not even a minute later Stark appeared through the door. He had been in his workshop, by the stains of oil and grease of his face and hands. He grunted and got undressed, knowing why I had called him here. That machine of his must have told him. He quickly entered the bathtub, making the water level rise.

Without waiting another moment, I pulled him to me, putting a hand in the back of his neck. He moaned as our lips touched and our tongues started exploring each other's mouth. He hungrily shoved himself closer to my body, until I could feel his growing arousal grinding into my hip. I scratched his scalp with my fingernails, entangling my fingers in that hair of his.

He parted our lips and started to plant soft kisses along my ear, lightly sucking and biting at my earlobe, sending chills down my spine. I placed my free hand in his back, feeling the hard muscle shift under my palm. His mouth travelled down, leaving a trail of goosebumps while he kissed the line of my jaw, my neck… Oh,  I simply lost it at my neck. I couldn't stand the rolls of pleasure that invaded me right in that moment. That had always been one of my most sensitive spots.

Tony relentlessly continued his way down my body, lifting his hand to tease one of my nipples so deliciously. He twitched it between his fingers, while he licked and softly bit the other, making me arch under his expert touch.

I was no inexperienced myself. Throughout the centuries I had developed a great sexual appetite I needed to satisfy so very often. I didn't really mind the gender, I was equally good with a man or a woman, as long as they pleased me.

And oh yes Stark _did_ please me.

His head then fell down to the place where my penis was painfully itching to be touched, just to lightly brush the tip with his mouth. I grunted as a complain when he moved his head to my inner tight instead, raising my body out of the water as it were made of air. I moved my hands to my back to support myself in such a position.

His mouth approached my cock, and teased and ghosted over it, repeating the torturing process once again.

"Stark… by fuck's sake. Touch me. Touch me _now_." My voice sounded hoarse in my own ears.

He lifted his face and smirked at me devilishly. "And how do we ask that, Mr. Laufeyson?"

" _Please_. Please, Stark, fuck me." I begged. Under any other circumstances he would have had a pretty tough time trying to make me beg, or even say please, but this was sex. And sex is war, where everything is valid and anything is possible.

I wouldn't tell him that if my life depended on it, but I _loved_ the way he made me plead. Even gods can beg for mercy.

He didn't answer, but moved his face once again to my dick. Finally, he started to slide the tip into his mouth, making slow circles with his tongue. So slowly. So excruciatingly, pleasurably slowly. It drove me crazy. I arched my back to get closer to his skillful mouth, moaning loudly. Tony ran his tongue along the length of my erection, and I felt one of his fingers testing my entrance.

I growled in pleasure as he ate me whole. I ran a hand through his hair, guiding his head up and down, setting a frenetic pace that made me gasp.

His finger went in and out of my hole a couple of times more before he added a second one, making me shiver with desire. He continued with both movements until I felt it. I felt the feeling building inside me, anticipating the orgasm to come. I grasped Stark's hair tightly, quickening the rhythm of his mouth even more, and he dutifully obeyed. The third finger into my hole was the icing of the cake.

"Ah, Stark…  A-ah…  I'm co-coming, nnnnh."

A couple of moments later I found my release into his mouth and closed my eyes as the orgasm rolled over me like a tidal wave. I was left there for a moment, hanging in the bliss, before Stark pulled me out of it by kissing me roughly. He tasted of me.

"I am not done with you yet, dear. Or are you too tired already?" He asked with a wicked smirk.

"I am a god, you mortal. My stamina is beyond your reach. It is you who you should be worrying about." I mocked, but I was actually panting lightly.

"Good."

He withdrew his fingers from my ass and slid his cock into me. Oh, it felt so good. He entered as deep as he could and stopped for a moment to let me get used to it. Then he pulled out almost completely and slammed back in, making me gasp. He was rock hard, I could sense it. He thrusted again and again, while the only thing I could do was moan helplessly.

He grunted in response, and placed his hands on my hips. His palms were hot, so hot that I swear they left a burn in my skin. I wrapped my hands around his neck tightly, and he bent down for his lips to met mine. He kissed me deeply, thrusting into me so hungrily, so avidly, so roughly I thought I would split in half. It was like fire and ice and thunder and every other force of nature together.

I moaned in that hurricane of skin and heat that were our bodies, and I heard Tony mirror my sounds.

He hit my prostate, and I truly screamed of pleasure. I shifted my body so he could reach that spot again. And he did, once, twice, three times. Again and again, until I no longer knew who I was.

I had another orgasm, this one even greater, and I shouted and screamed Stark's name as my eyes rolled backwards of pure bliss. After some more thrusts, Tony also released, calling my name as he did it.

We lay there for seconds, minutes, hours. After what seemed like an impossibly long time,  Tony pulled out and chuckled.

"I totally love bath sex."

"I totally love _sex_." I specified, throwing him a sly glance.

"My God." He said, trying and failing to look scandalised.

"That would be me, yes."

He laughed and kissed me briefly in the lips. "Let's go to bed."

I arched my eyebrow in faux disbelief. "So eager for round two? By the Nine, you do have a problem there, Stark."

"Oh, shut up. You know what I meant."

I did, but it didn't make it less funny. I stood and got out of the bathtub, the bubbles I'd asked for long forgotten. 

* * *

"We're ready. Whenever it pleases your royalty." Sherlock’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. He was holding a rather big bag. I guessed it only contained the _essential_.

"All right then. Come here. We need to be close to teleport." I demanded. That wasn't true, but I just wanted to see John's pissed face while I hold his lover close to my body too badly. My fault.

I grabbed Sherlock by the wrist and I pulled him to me, reducing our distance to a mere feet. I couldn't help but to smile wickedly at John's facial expression.

I teleported us to New York, without knowing what might we find there.


	6. The One With The Golden Tie Pin

It was a weird feeling, teleporting. As if something or someone grabbed you by your skin and pulled so tightly you feared it would rip it apart. But it wasn't painful at all. Just… weird.

Then you didn't feel anything. Nothing. Like the void, a lack of matter. A great nothingness. That part was quite fascinating, as well as terrifying. As if you could stay there, unchanged and unbothered, for the rest of eternity.

But then, suddenly, you were dragged again by that mysterious force of the start, back to reality, and we appeared in the middle of a crowded street in New York.

I blinked in surprise, by the fact that we had actually been _teleported_ rather than by the incapability of pedestrians to notice three people materialising from the thin air. People are stupid. I had that clear a long time ago.

I looked at John, who furrowed his brow, not quite believing what had just happened. But then I followed the direction of his gaze, and discovered Loki's hand gripped around my wrist, and my own hand gripping his.

How hadn't I seen that before? I am Sherlock Holmes. I saw the minute details. All and each one of them. And I had failed to see that big chunk of detail grabbing my wrist.

Loki didn't seem to notice it, either. Or at least he didn't let go. Instead, he looked around.

“Well, here we are. This is clearly New York City; we are a little bit misplaced but here nevertheless.” He looked at us and grinned. It wasn't a good grin at all. “I guess we'll have to stay at a hotel.”

That mischievous grin became wider, and it sent chills down my spine. The god was clearly up to something.

Loki turned around and started walking, without even checking if we were following him or not. Annoying god.

I started walking, John beside me. I looked at him, who was also looking at me. “Are you seriously going to let him give us orders?” He scowled, but after he saw my expression his gaze softened. “Because that would really be not you. And you know I love you.”

That surprised me; John wasn't usually a man who expressed his feelings in public. Or at all. I paused for a moment and kissed him quickly in the lips. “You're an idiot.” That was my way of saying _I love you_ and he knew it. A big smile spread in his face, making him look like a teenager in love. Which he probably was. Even the teenage part, at least when it came to mentality.

But that smile faded quickly, leaving a worried expression. “I think we've lost him. I can't see him.”

“Don't worry, Loki has just turned the corner over there. And I bet there's a hotel a couple of metres ahead it. He is probably waiting for us at the door.” I answered, without tearing my gaze from John.

“We'd better hurry then, he must be freaking everybody out with that outfit of his.” That said, he held out his hand for me to take it. Another affection gesture I was not used to. I took his hand anyway, loving the touch of his skin against mine.

We walked down the street and turned the corner. We saw the hotel and entered the main lounge, trying and failing to find a madman in a costume.

I scanned the room looking for someone who looked out of place or nervous. Three people cheating on their couples, two newly married ones, a bunch of businessman and businesswomen and a famous person I didn't recognise, surrounded by bodyguards and wearing sunglasses. Seriously, who did they think they fooled with sunglasses?

Then I spotted a man by the bar, neatly dressed in a dark green suit and tie, a scarf around his neck. That raven black hair could only belong to one person.

“John, go and book for the night, please.” I made a hand gesture towards the reception and started walking.

I approached him, and saw the waiter serve him two drinks. Loki picked up with two of his long and pale fingers the olive floating in his Martini and turned his back to face me. I wasn't close enough as to talk yet, but the god smiled lustfully in my direction and popped the olive into his mouth provocatively. I rolled my eyes. Loki's teasing and lack of boundaries were astonishing.

I arrived by his side and looked up and down at him, collecting as much data as I could. The suit narrowed impossibly at his waist, which meant it was tailor made, English style. The colour matched perfectly the colour of his eyes, but without eclipsing it. The knot of the tie was skilfully done, meaning he had had practise. Probably social events to attend… on Earth? Suit and tie didn't seem the kind of thing Norse gods wore to such events. A golden tie pin in the shape of a serpent created a contrast against the green and the white from the shirt. It had to have a meaning, judging by its use.

Classy. Glamorous. Stylish.

I almost moaned. Not many people knew how to wear a suit, nor did appreciate a good one. Loki did, it seemed.

“Like what you see?” Loki said, amused.

I ignored the question completely. “I didn't know you gods wore human suits. Surely it's not a common thing back in Asgard. And that's a nice tie pin the one you have there. Which is its story?” I counterattacked. His face fell instantly, just for a moment. But enough for me to see it.

“No, Midgardian clothing is seldom amongst us gods. I find it difficult to resist such elegance, though. It certainly is fitting.”

“It's tailor made, it sure _is_ fitting!” I exclaimed, noticing the overlook of the question of the tie pin, but I let it go. I would get the information some other time. I just had to push and pull correctly. “I suppose that drink is for somebody?”

“Of course it is. Surely it’s something you fancy?” Loki inquired, handling me the other cup for me to try it. I raised it to me mouth, not breaking eye contact with the god. He was the God of Mischief and Trickery. He may do something unexpected, like, _oh_ , mischiefs and tricks. His expression remained unaltered, so I allowed the cool drink into my mouth. Actually I did like it, but I wasn’t giving Loki that satisfaction. It burnt my throat when I swallowed.

“It’s not as bad as I had expected.” I brushed it off. “What is its name, by the way?”

 “Orgasm.” He now did grin mischievously. “And I know you are lying. You have really enjoyed it. I can see it.” Loki leaned forward dangerously, stopping mere centimetres from my face. “In your eyes.”

John had to choose _exactly_ that moment to come to us. The look on his face was… expressive. And it wasn’t a positive emotion the one he was showing, either. Loki just ignored him completely, but by his body language he knew he was there.

“I… uh… have booked the rooms.” He spluttered, murdering the god with his gaze. “One for Sherlock and for me and another for Loki. We should go up now.”

Loki tore his eyes from mine and fixed them on John, who seemed to shrink. “I am _not_ sleeping alone.”

“Why not?” John asked, as if fearing the answer.

“Maybe our high and mighty god Loki here is afraid of the dark. Or did you forget your beloved teddy bear in the run?” I teased, just to delay the arrival of the answer.

Loki smirked. It was a bitter grin, and I regretted having said that.

“No, my dear, the matter is way more serious than the childish behaviours I may or may not have.” He paused for a moment and breathed deeply. “If I sleep alone I have nightmares.” Well, that was not the answer I was fearing. I almost felt bad for being relieved. “I dream of blood and war, pain and suffering and desolation and loss. They're not common nightmares. They're memories. And I'm tired of them haunting me.”

I looked at the god, seeing him for the first time. In that moment everything, every little detail acquired an entirely different meaning. The tie pin. The longing in his voice when he talked about Asgard. The way he acted, pushing everybody and everything a little further, just to see when it would break or bend. Whichever came first.

It was stunning how Loki's moods swung.

“Sherlock! Thank you for volunteering to sleep with me. That's truly considerate of you. I'm sure your lover won't mind, will he now?” And like that, as fast as a snap of fingers, teasing, playful Loki was back. Vulnerable Loki, the one who had just confessed having memories haunting him in his sleep, was no longer in sight.

“I do mind!” John yelled. He had clearly booked the rooms so Loki was as far as possible. He didn't expect his move to backfire. “You won't spend the night with my boyfriend! And he has said nothing, he hasn't offered!”

“But, John, we can't let him alone! He'll just come running like a scared child into our bed if he has those nightmares.” I tried to argue, foreseeing what he would do.

“Yes, because sneaking into other people's bed is my speciality. Isn't it, Sherlock?” His face couldn't be any more provocative. I bit my lower lip, recalling last night's events. And the morning's. He had actually sneaked into mine.

John looked at me helplessly. I looked at him too. We had a silent conversation that lasted two seconds, no more. Finally, he looked away.

“I'll go ask we are given a bigger room instead of two.” I announced, pointing at the office. Loki pulled at my sleeve, making me stop.

“They won't change it so easily. Let's go, I'll just make an extra bed appear. And we can keep the other room. You never know when your lover won't stand us anymore. He seems pretty jealous already. I love that furrowed expression he has when he is jealous. He almost looks like a hedgehog, doesn't he?”

I rolled my eyes, and saw John became really annoyed by the god, which only accentuated that furrow Loki had just mentioned. This last one looked exactly like an excited five year old boy with a brand new thing he could blow up.

Childish, they called me. They didn’t know the God of Mischief.


	7. Theories, Fantasies & Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't post earlier, I am with exams and I am so stressed I can't barely procrastinate. Ugh.  
> Anyway, here it comes, a little angst and a little fluff. Enjoy!

I hadn't lied. I told them I would make a bed appear; I said nothing about what I would do with the existing ones. That's not lying.

I never lie.

And I was not called Silvertongue and Liesmith for nothing, either. Yes, the Liesmith one certainly involved lies, but that's just for the stupid enough ones, who didn't appreciate my fine work with words and called them lies. Morons.

I had thought Sherlock wasn't that kind, and it was proved right the moment I exchanged one of the single sized beds for a double one and toss him onto it. His entertainment ended up rather _magically_ on the other bed, the one that was originally in the room.

John was closer to that sort of men I despised. But maybe he was just acting that way out of jealousy. Anyway, I liked Sherlock better. _Way_ better.

"Oi, what do you think you are doing?" John yelled, trying to get up from the bed. I tied him there with a light movement of my fingers.

"So annoying, so noisy. Haven't you ever thought of how beautiful the silence is?" Another movement and he was unable to speak. Oh yes. Much better.

I turned my back to the now immobile human and watched Sherlock carefully. It was truly difficult for me to know what he was thinking. Now _that_ was an unusual thing. I am pretty good at reading people. It's part of my charm.

I had a theory, though. Sherlock, the only consulting detective in the world, the freak. People —idiots— couldn't see how wonderful and superior he was, but only saw he was different. And as everything that is different to humans, they tossed it aside. They couldn't quite comprehend him, so he didn't deserve to be an equal. He was a freak. He would always be. And he would be treated as such.

And so Sherlock the freak learnt not to trust people or show any emotion. Because they would use that, something they understood and very much liked to manipulate, to hurt him. Once, twice, three times. Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Again and again, Sherlock the freak was hurt.

But then John came into his life. He was such a pain, but he had done so much. All the socializing Sherlock did, all the _Sherlock, not good_ John said. As if he were a child. Because he was. He was a child who had been hurt way too many times before. But Sherlock was learning to open himself. Because he had found someone he could rely on. Someone he could trust. He had found a friend, a lover. John.

What exactly was John didn't really matter, as I had experienced myself through the centuries. But I wasn't John; I couldn't help him. I was too damaged myself. I was Sherlock the freak once, before I covered my heart in ice and sarcasm and indifference.

"Like what you see?" Sherlock snapped me out of my reverie. That was _my_ phrase. He dared steal my phrase. I narrowed my eyes while I pierced with my gaze.

"Oh yes, what I see pleases me very much, thank you." I pointed at him and his clothes instantly vanished. He blushed. Sherlock Holmes actually _blushed_.

The detective covered himself with a pillow, but it was too late. I had already seen him.

"I suggest you got into bed instead of blushing like a little girl."

I turned my back and entered the bathroom, moving slightly my fingers to free John from my magic, who was still struggling against the invisible strains. I didn't make Sherlock's clothes reappear, though. It had been way too much fun to watch him trying to look composed when it was so ridiculously obvious he wasn't.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror for a moment. I had bags under my eyes after the last sleepless nights. Actually, the night before had been the first in over a week when I had been able to sleep properly, without nightmares.

I got undressed and entered the shower. I let the water pour over me for some minutes before I grabbed the gel bottle. The hot water had created a coat of steam that covered the tiles and mirror, making the room look like out of a dream.

I sighed heavily. Now that I was alone it was more difficult to keep the nonchalant façade I usually wore. It was too easy to remember and to feel. Neither of them was pleasant.

I started to rub the soap on my body, my fingers touching everywhere. This feeling was not unwelcome, though, and it was a nice distraction from the haunting memories.

My hands took over and my brain shut off, glad to not to have to work anymore. My palms traveled down my chest and belly, and further down, fingers playing and tugging.

I took my dick and started to move my hand, slowly at first, the pace quickening as my heart rate rose. I pressed my forearm to the tiled wall, and my head tilted backwards, the hand not stopping.

My mind had to fantasise, though. I imagined strong hands with stains of oil and grease holding me, like they had done so many times before. I thought I could feel them caressing my back, digging fingernails into my flesh, leaving marks that spoke of our battles.

Sex is war.

I came close to my climax, and I was panting lightly. I still could feel the ghosts of hands holding me, but they were nothing but phantoms that were no longer beside me.

They suddenly changed. They were no longer Stark's. Now cold hands ran through my body, long pale fingers exploring it. I knew those hands. They were the hands of a certain violinist.

With a loud moan, I came, closing my eyes and getting lost in the sensation for a moment. I pressed my forehead to the wall and let the water fall down my back and neck. It was almost boiling, but I could not care less. I liked that way.

I stayed immobile for a while, just listening to the sound of pouring water drumming in my ears. What had just happened? I hadn't fantasised with Sherlock, had I? By the Nine, I was way more desperate than I had thought.

I quickly finished the shower and got out. Grabbing a white towel from one of the hangers I rolled it around my waist, my hair dripping water upon the floor. I dried it with magic, but not completely, though. My power was diminished without the sceptre, and teleporting the two humans and myself from London to New York had drained me.

I could really use a little nightmare free sleep right now.

I was about to open the bathroom door when I heard the sound of a violin playing a beautiful tune. I stood there, doorknob in hand, mesmerised by the music, until it faded away. I could hear soft conversation in the other room, and a chuckle from Sherlock.

When the song finished, I exited the bathroom and found the two humans kissing. A betrayed jealousy stung me, for which I was actually surprised. Surely having fantasised about Sherlock back in the shower didn't have anything to do with it. _Of course not._ The couple hadn't noticed me, so I cleared my throat.

Sherlock pulled away straightaway, his high cheekbones flaring, like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't. What a lovely view. His lover just stood there, that amusing frustrated frown spreading in his forehead.

"As much as I would love to see you two hooking up forever, I am also in need of my beauty sleep."

I smiled wickedly and strode towards the closet. I made some clothes appear in the hangers and picked up a grey t-shirt and boxers. I unrolled the towel and tossed it to the floor, before putting on the clothes. I could feel Sherlock staring at me, which made me smirk. Then I walked to the bed and got in.

"Are you two going to sleep anytime soon or should I create myself earmuffs?" I arched an eyebrow. "I don't think I could bear any more of your public affection showing."

John rolled his eyes and crawled into his bed before throwing Sherlock a last warning glance. The other man came warily and not breaking eye contact with me, but he finally lied down on the bed beside me.

"I do not bite. At least not if you don't ask me to." John choked when he heard that, but Sherlock just looked away, turning his back to me.

"Goodnight John, Loki." He said, stretching his arm to switch off the lights. His lover mumbled an answer I suspected didn't contain the _Loki_ part, but I wasn't paying attention; my mind was occupied with other matters.

What did Sherlock's attitude come from? Just a couple of hours ago he was responding to my remarks with equally sarcastic ones, and now? Now he blushed and avoided my eyes. Had John convinced him to stay away from me? Or he was just weary of our little game of flirting?

Was I so paranoid about him because of what had happened in the shower?

Did it really matter?

Eventually I fell asleep, the last thing I noticed was how close Sherlock was sleeping, almost _on_ me.


	8. The One Who Was Vulnerable

I woke up to Loki's voice. Well, he wasn't exactly _talking_ ; he was sleep talking. Sleep mumbling. Whatever. I checked the hour. 3:57. Damn. I was about to drift back to sleep when I caught some words of what he was saying.

“Monster… I do not want… to be… a monster… I'm trying… _Please_.”

That last word was an utter plead, and it made my heart clench. I knew what to do in such a situation, as John had nightmares at first too, so I got up and put the palm of my hand on his black hair, caressing it softly.

“Loki.” He opened his eyes slowly and looked around for a moment, realizing where he was. Then he looked up at me, a glint of fear flashing in those dashing green eyes.

I muttered soothing words as _it's OK, you're safe now_ , while I held him to my chest. He was shaking.

Loki had said the night before he had nightmares if he slept alone. That's the main reason why I had agreed to sleep with him. But even then he had nightmares. How worse could it be if he were alone? The thought of leaving the god on his own made me shiver.

We stayed like that for what it seemed like a really long time, and it probably was, judging by the stiffness of my muscles when Loki finally went back to sleep, still clenched to my pyjamas. I didn't dare pry off his grip, so I simply lied back down and tried to sleep again.

 

The next time it was John's voice the one who woke me up. This time there was daylight pouring through the windows, which made me close my eyes in pain. It hurt.

“Sherlock.” He purred. I was momentarily startled by his tone, but my mind started running and it quickly made sense. “Sherlock, he's asleep.”

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious. And?” I complained. I wasn't in the mood for games. But then John was oblivious to any of my moods.

“I want you. Isn't that obvious too?” He whispered to my ear and climbed in top of me.

His jump startled me wide awake. I looked up at him and admired his face, the square jaw and the grey eyes. I growled softly and pulled him by the neck to me. As soon as our lips came together all the sleep I may have remaining disappeared.

Morning sex was the best.

I deepened the kiss, getting slightly up to get as close to John as possible.

He ran his fingers through my curls, pulling lightly and making me moan. He knew my scalp was one of my weak points. I would be in my knees begging for mercy if he pulled correctly.

And hell John knew how to pull correctly.

I was supporting in my elbows, but I shifted so I had a free hand. John was not the only one who knew soft spots.

I brushed the tip of my fingers against his chest, barely touching him. That made him growl in frustration, and he leaned forward, craving for my touch. I smirked and put my hand out of his reach. John tugged my hair as a response, which sent chills down my spine.

His lips left mine and moved down to the line of my jaw, where he started kissing and biting my neck. His lips left a trail of fire wherever they passed, making me hard. I let out a whine and tilted my head to give him better access to it.

I reached down for his pants and pulled them down, freeing his erection. He was really hard, which only aroused me more.

We rolled and I positioned on top of him. I locked my eyes with his and saw a sly smile spread across his face. I smirked back and crawled backwards to his hip, kissing his bare skin along the way down.

I ghosted my mouth over the tip of his cock for a moment before I licked the head, making circles with my tongue.

John groaned and grabbed my hair, entangling his fingers in the curls. Impatient.

Finally, I put it in my mouth and settled a steady rhythm. He forced the pace with the hand he had in my head, making it quicker and rougher.

No time for romance then. What a shame.

I moved up and down, my eyes not leaving his face, while I saw his expression morph from excitement to lust and to pleasure. I stopped for a moment and passed my tongue over the whole length, making him shiver under my touch.

With my hand I continued to stroke his cock, and I used my mouth to stimulate his nipples. I bit them softly and twitched them with the fingers of my other hand.

That was his undone. John arched his back, screaming my name as he came. Cum splattered on my belly and hand, but I couldn't care less.

I rolled to the side, slightly panting. I landed on something, or rather _someone_. That's when I remembered the sleeping God of Mischief in the very same bed as us.

I sprung and looked at Loki, who was still safely asleep. He looked peaceful, all the attitude and barriers gone. He seemed young, despite he probably was a gazillion years old. Or, by what I had deduced from the Norse mythology, a thousand.

I relaxed a little and rested on John's chest for a moment. I closed my eyes and listened to his heartbeat. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. I inhaled deeply and said:

“We should probably get up.”

I didn't want Loki to find us like that, but I couldn't bring myself to say it, I didn't know why. It was completely logical not to want other people to discover you in such a situation. Less if said people were in the same bed as yourself.

Like in this case.

“We should.” John put a finger under my chin and made me look at him. “Shower? You haven't come yet.”

It was true, but I wasn't really bothered about it. On the other hand, shower sex sounded great, so I nodded and got up from the bed carefully as not to wake the sleeping god.

John entered the bathroom and I followed. I glanced back one last time and I think I saw a mess of black hair moving on the pillow.

Never mind.

John grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me inside the bathroom, kissing me hard when I turned.

“Ready for round two, Sherlock?” He asked, not separating his lips from mine. I growled as an answer and walked backwards into the shower, pulling him with me.

The bathtub was small, not made for two, so we were pretty close. Not that I wanted it any other way.

This time John turned on the water stream before getting to his knees. His wet hair and lustful smirk made him look like a demon. A badass motherfucking sexy demon.

He caressed my knee first, then moved to my inner thigh, kissing me on his painstakingly slow way up. I groaned in anticipation, but John stopped and stood up.

He waited a couple of seconds, until I complained about the sudden halt. I thought we were here for _me_ to come.

“John…” I begged. “Continue.”

“Make me.” He answered defiantly.

I grabbed his forearm and pulled down, catching him off guard. That made him fall to his knees again, but John simply looked up and bit his lip.

“I love it when you make me.”

Then he resumed his sweet torture. Each centimetre he touched was on fire, leaving a trace of scorched skin, like a road map.

John groaned against my thigh and finally grabbed my cock. He placed his thumb on the tip and made circles, spreading the precum around it. He raised his hand and stuck his finger out to my mouth. I understood perfectly what he wanted me to do, and I complied.

I opened my mouth and welcomed the wet finger, tasting the salty on it. I didn’t look away from his eyes while doing that. I circled my tongue around the finger, curling and entangling it.

John removed it and continued masturbating me until I felt that well known sensation building up inside me. I reached climax screaming his name loudly, as I always did. It didn't take much this time, though. All the foreplay and the _round one_ had me over the edge already.

I dropped against the wall of the shower, trying to catch my breath. I had my eyes closed, still lost in the afterglow, but I could feel John kissing me so very softly. He started with the eyelids, to then continue trailing down to my lips and ending up planting the lightest of kisses on them.

“I love you.” He said, resting his head against my chest and hugging my waist.

“You are an idiot.” I answered, and felt his smile on my skin. “Are you still mad at me? You know, for accepting Loki's case and all that.”

“I'm not. I mean, I was mad. But not anymore. I can't be mad at you for a long time.”

“Don't lie to me or try to bribe me with words. I can tell when you're lying. Your body stiffens and you hesitate a little when you are about to speak.” He sighed, but said nothing.

“I'm not _completely_ lying. I'm not mad at you; that's true. I'm mad at Loki. And at myself, for letting it affect me.” He frowned. I wanted to kiss the frown away, but I refrained. John would stop talking if I did it.

So I just listened and observed in silence.

“You don’t… wouldn’t do anything, I trust you enough as to know that, but I can’t help but to worry about _him_. He’s unpredictable, and has an interest in you. I don’t know what he could do.” He confessed.

That was unexpected; John wasn’t a person who could express his feelings easily. The last days’ gestures were strange enough by themselves.

“Don’t be angry. Loki is a client, and I wouldn’t let anything happen, even if he tried. I would possibly kick his god ass for even thinking such a thing.”

“That’s exactly my point! You can’t know what he will do. He’s made of ego, disdain, hate and an astonishing lack of boundaries. There’s nothing good about him!”

Memories of last night sprung to my mind. When I had soothed him to sleep, when he had been afraid, truly terrified of his inner monsters.

When he had been _vulnerable_.

But I couldn’t bring myself to speak them out loud. I couldn’t stand up for Loki, as hard as I wanted to. I just couldn’t. Those memories were something Loki would want no one to know about, something that must be shared by the god himself. Loki was too proud for any other thing.

Those memories weren’t mine, even if I had been part of them.

I didn’t even bother in getting John out of his error somehow; it was really tedious to do so with everybody, at all times. So in the end I had stopped doing it.

“You are cute when you’re jealous.” I whispered instead. That probably wasn’t the correct way to continue the conversation, with some dumb remark, but it was the only thing I could think of in that moment.

“I'm not jealous! That poor excuse of a god is no threat to me.” He pouted and I laughed, because it was all too obvious he was.

I kissed him before he could reply anything more. “Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Yeah, whatever. Life in denial is _so much_ better.” I mocked. We still hadn’t separated our lips, but I pulled away and took his hand, guiding him out of the shower. “Let’s get out. I want to start this case.”

John just sighed and followed me, resigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, yes, Sherlock's soft spot are Benedict's sensitive follicles xD


	9. Monsters, Powerlessness & The Real World

I thought Sherlock would keep the nightmares at bay. Sleeping with someone usually did it.

It hadn't. But they hadn’t been normal nightmares either. After a week of sleepless nights full of the haunting memories of the void in-between the branches of the Yggdrasil after I fell from the Bifröst, I had expected some kind of relief in unconsciousness.

Relief I hadn’t got.

Images of the Avengers in the shadows, their faces covered in the most absolute darkness. There was no mistaking them, though. I knew it was them with that certainty one only has on dreams.

Then, suddenly, two lights appeared and enlightened both me and one of the shadowy figures. Stark’s face then lit up. I knew it was him even before my mind realised it was his face the one I was looking at.

Just that it wasn’t him.

The features were his, but not the expression or the vicious glint in his eyes. It wasn’t even something I had seen for a really long time. It was something feral, maniac (and trust me, I knew maniac quite well from when I was at my lowest), ruthless, _evil_.

The last time I had seen a look like that my children were taken away from me.

It was also the time I had slaughtered the ones who did so. Every and each one of them. Even if they were just pawns, their eagerness when kidnapping them was a crime horrible enough. My children were not with them, though.

But I perfectly knew who was after that order. Odin the All Father.

I hadn't taken revenge. Not yet. But I would. Someday, when he was happy and relaxed, I would strike and make his life Hell. Just like the one he made of mine.

I was completely paralysed by that look, overwhelmed by all it implied. I had managed to get out of my mind most of the feelings I carried with me wherever I went, but now the gates were completely open. Emotions I hadn't felt, I hadn’t _allowed_ myself to feel, for centuries were all rushing within me, a devastating and scorching hurricane, leaving nothing but ash and dust on its way.

“Monster. You are a monster. You betrayed us, you betrayed _me_. Monster. Who would ever love a monster?” The no Stark said. It was a cold, inhuman voice. “Because I can't. I don't love you, Loki. You are nothing but a pathetic monster. No one will ever be able to love you.”

The fact that it was Stark's face the one pronouncing those words only made it worse. Because for Stark I cared. Stark I loved.

Stark kept repeating that, over and over. I wanted to run, away from the silhouettes, away into the darkness. But I couldn't move. I couldn't even blink or speak. I was completely powerless, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.

Monster I had been called before, and I could convince myself that was not Stark, so it was not him uttering the words. They hurt less if it wasn't Stark.

“No, please. I'm not a monster. I know… I'm trying not to… I don't want to be… A monster. _Please_.”

That sounded like a plea and it was. A plea from someone completely vulnerable, completely powerless.

But you can't fight powerlessness. That's the point of it. You can do _nothing_ against it. You are not in control of yourself, you can't _choose_.

Then, the rest of the Avengers started to talk. They repeated what the other Stark was saying, at different speeds and points, but the same words, nevertheless.

Eventually, the shadows themselves were also chanting. They all said similar things, but each one of them was different from the others.

I tried to look away from Stark's face, but my gaze was locked in his. That malevolent glint was still there, flashing deadly in his brown eyes.

“Are you afraid, Loki?” He then asked, smiling unpleasantly.

I was not going to answer yes. Not ever. My whole dignity and pride prevented me from admitting such an emotion. But I _knew_ , just knew, that I wasn't actually afraid.

This nightmare was not like the ones I was used to. That didn't necessarily mean it was worse. Here, I was aware it was a dream. Here, they couldn't hurt me, not really. It was not _real_. It was terrifying, and I was not completely sure of how such a thing was possible, but I was terrified and not afraid at the same time.

I was terrified because it was scary. Many things I feared were there. Monster. Stark's coldness. The cruelty of my children being taken away. Powerlessness.

I wasn't afraid, though, for it was all an invention. Not real. It couldn't hurt me in the real world. In the real world, Sherlock was sleeping beside me. In the real world, I was not powerless. In the real world, I could fight. I could choose.

Stark darkly laughed, throwing his head backwards.

“You fool. You think you are safe. You think Sherlock is going to protect you. He won't. As soon as he knows who you really are, he will abandon you.” His cold, hating eyes fixed on Loki, who shook lightly. “He will abandon you as everyone else does. Because you. Are. A. Monster. And you do not deserve to be loved.”

He laughed again maniacally while my skin turned to dark blue. When Tony had looked away I had been able to move my gaze, but not my whole body.

I could move just enough to see my hands starting to morph, nails turning black, skin becoming blue. This was what I feared most. Not the monster part. The _meaning_ of monster.

I watched in utter horror how the blue was spreading up my arms, down my chest and legs, into my face. I could almost feel the moment my eyes tinted red. I shuddered, grateful for the darkness surrounding me. Only a light above lit a little space around me.

“Oh, so you want the darkness? Do you not desire to see yourself? To observe who you are, _what you are?_ ” I looked at the shadow again, in utter disbelief. He chuckled loudly. “You think your thoughts are private? Do you really think you can escape me?”

Suddenly, the silhouette started to walk towards me. It was grinning. He stopped at a feet's distance, and shoved a finger painfully in my chest.

“I am your deepest fears. I am everything you are afraid of and anything you don't want to lose. Because you will. You will lose _everything_. Everything you love and care about. Everything you are. You cannot escape me. I am _you_.”

Those words, along with my Jotunn form, were too much to bear. I started shaking violently, trying to get away from that cold voiced machine with the face of Tony Stark.

And I was suddenly startled awake. Sherlock was caressing my hair protectively, murmuring soothing words and keeping me close to his body.

I closed my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. It was over. I was awake now. Still, I couldn't make the shudders stop.

I breathed slowly until I regained control over my body, but even when I did I didn't pull away from the man holding me. It felt good, to have someone protecting you. To have someone caring enough as to wake up at some unearthly hour and stay soothing me like I was some fearful child.

Because, in that moment, I was. Even if I wouldn't accept it out loud.

I don't know when I drifted back to sleep. But I had no more nightmares.

* * *

 

How I managed to sleep while John assaulted Sherlock I didn't know. I wasn't even properly asleep, just sleepy enough as not to process completely what was happening.

Once the moans started, though, there was no way I could have remained asleep. I rolled my eyes at Sherlock's lack of imagination when it came to blowjobs. By what I was hearing he didn't have the skill in his tongue… yet.

Then he rudely bumped on me. I had to make a real effort in order not to hit him in that moment. He should learn to respect other people's personal spaces… Oh. I get it. The pot calling the kettle black and all that.

When they went into the bathroom I got up and quickly got dressed with some Midgardian clothes. I loved suits, but they were formal, I believe. Not for everyday use. A shame, really. So I settled for a dark green plain shirt and some black trousers.

I put the tie pin in the shape of Jörmungandr into my pocket. It was my charm, I always had it with me. Then I scribbled a note for the couple telling I had gone out to _investigate_.

Truth was, after my kind of encounter with Stark I didn't feel like watching romance at all. Or sex. Or anything near that. I hoped fresh air helped me clear my mind.

I picked up a pair of shoes and some accessories humans carried everywhere they went, like paper money –seriously, how stupid is that? _Paper money_. It didn't have any value itself. Everyone could buy paper– or a phone. They were a funny thing, phones. You could almost do anything with them; play games, communicate with other Midgardians or get into the ever present net.

My mind already drifting to less dangerous or gloomy thoughts, I exited the hotel room as I heard Sherlock screaming as he climaxed. I rolled my eyes to that. Noisy.

I was in New York. There was plenty to investigate.


	10. Smoke, Sweat & Steel

I only realised the mistake I had made once I stepped out of the hotel.

I was in  _New York_.

Avengers HQ were in New York.

The Avengers, and hence Stark, were most probably in the city.

I wasn't a prisoner anymore, but my running off like that wasn't going to help me make a point about my being non-evil.

Maybe they were looking for me.

That thought made me shiver, and I pondered the idea of turning back into the hotel and away of any cameras that may be in the street. You can never know when they're been used to spy on you, or to discover your position. Better to be careful.

But I refrained. That would mean they won. They hadn't won, I hadn't  _let them_  won, in the months they had done everything they could to break me down without physically harming me, back in Stark Tower.

They definitely would not start now.

Besides, if they were truly looking for me they would already be here. They would have searched the print of my magic and known my exact location the very first moment I set foot on the city.

That hurt more than what I was prepared to admit. I thought about shape shifting into some dull and ordinary human, but my pride refused. And so did I. I would not hide. Not here, not from the Avengers. They were Midgardians, after all. Quite extraordinary amongst their kind, but  _human_.

I walked past the glass doors of the hotel, and found myself somewhere between two busy commercial streets.

I stopped and casted a locator spell to know where I was. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, shutting off any sound from the noisy city. I couldn't concentrate as well in big metropolises as I did normally, but that didn't impede me from being an extraordinary mage. I concentrated on the words the spell required, as well as the hand's movements.

Those were important. Very important, even more than the words. The phrasing was just the embodiment of an idea; I just used a physical vessel to make it more channelled, even if by doing that they lost accuracy. But you can't put into words a movement. You simply can't. You just have to actually  _do_  the movement for it to understand its purpose. For it to link with the idea and the magic and create the proper spell.

With my magic restrained as it was, it wasn't going to be as powerful as it would be under other circumstances, but it would do. I had spent more than a year in this city, but I had hardly gone out of the Stark Tower, or Avengers HQ, as most of them called it now. Not Tony. Of course not Tony. It would always be Stark Tower for him.

First I hadn't gone out because of my status. Prisoners aren't usually allowed outside, you see. And once I was free and returned my magic… Well, because I didn't want to. There were far more attractions in the Tower. Like, let's say, sex. Sex is a great attractive, whichever way you look at it. And Stark loved it almost as much as I did.

So, in the end, I hadn't visited New York at all. Not that I cared, for it being Midgard. I wasn't interested in Midgard. Not before, at least. Now… I could learn some basics. It would be useful, if not entertaining.

Perhaps I should ask Sherlock to teach me. I could almost imagine the exasperated expression he would have if I played dumb. That would definitely make it worth play dumb.

I smiled absentmindedly as I finished the spell. Oh. According to it I was between the Sixth Avenue and the 54th Street. I dug a little deeper and discovered a big park somewhere to my left, not too far. Everything around me buzzed with life and rush, as it always happened in big cities. I couldn't stand it for long. A park was exactly what I needed.

And there was a pond too. Water was really useful at spell crafting, especially when it came to visions. The purer the water, the easier you could visualise other people's… No. I would not observe what the Avengers or Thor or Stark were doing. My mind was wandering towards thoughts I didn't want to get into. That was the point of this, wasn't it? To get away from everything for half an hour.

I shook my head to get rid of the unpleasant feelings and started walking. A park. Central Park. That was good. Big, quiet place, I assumed. With hidden places in the shade of trees and calm corners without visitors. I liked that. I  _needed_  that.

I stopped and looked up for a moment, breathing in. The scent was faint, covered by all the other smells of the city. Smoke, sweat and steel. But it was there nonetheless. The scent of… green. Trees and plants making the photosynthesis, out in the sun. I had to be close to the park.

I opened my eyes and continued walking, guided by my nose. The Midgardians didn't have the senses as developed as the Aesir or Frost Giants, and relied mostly on their eyes and ears. Pathetic. You can train your senses to sharpen and enhance them. Humans shouldn't settle with only two of five senses. It just makes them vulnerable.

I was astonished I had been defeated by such defenceless creatures. And I would be quite embarrassed too, if it wasn't because I didn't really  _want_  to rule them.

After I fell from the Bifröst, the Mad Titan found me. At the time I had felt relieved, happy even, that somebody had indeed found me. I didn't want to discover if I was truly immortal by staying in the void for too long. But those emotions didn't last long. As soon as the torture started, they faded, replaced by sheer agony. I don't know how long I was there. I don't even want to know. I don't care.

Then, it is understandable I used the first chance I had to escape my destiny, isn't it? I overheard a conversation between Thanos, the Mad Titan, and his second on command, the Other. They planned to conquer Midgard and then reach Asgard through it. I could now see why he had chosen Midgard; so naive, so unaware of everything happening around them. That's the ultimate surprise factor.

So I lead an army to this planet, but didn't command it as I should have. And I do not do half-assed works. My plan worked out perfectly. Well, except for the part where the Chitauri actually made it to New York. It was  _internal sabotage_. I let them think I wasn't as focused as usual because of the torture and the mental state I had at the moment. And it was not a lie, indeed.

I never lie.

But I could have done it so much better, if I had wanted. A mental breakdown and severe torture couldn't put me out forever. And even if I was not completely stable, I could think clearly enough as to know what I was doing. I even left little hints for the Avengers to get what I was actually doing, but I guess I overestimated them.

At this point I was so submerged in my thoughts that I barely noticed I had already reached the park. My feet moved in autopilot and got me into the grove, away from unwanted eyes. The sound of the cars and people was muffled there.

It was nearly as perfect as I had imagined it. It was as calm a place as I could have found in such a big city.

I kept walking, still letting my feet choose the path. But the autopilot had disadvantages too. My feet dragged me towards the pond. I stopped in front of it when I realised it. I could see my reflection on the surface.

I bit my lip, and the one on the water mimicked the gesture.

I shouldn't spy on the Avengers. It had been just a week without any contact, but after more than a year of seeing them almost daily that seemed like a lot of time.

I realised I  _missed them._

Well, that was new. Looking back at how our relationship had started it was a great improvement. My trying to conquer Midgard and kill them, and all that. I hadn't really wanted to rule over this planet, but I would have killed them if they had got in my way.

Still, it wasn't going to do to spy on them. I would want to actually  _see_  them. Tossing their memories aside was the only way. It had been the only way with my children, at least.

But I needed to watch them, to know they were doing OK. That Stark was doing OK. Or maybe not. Maybe I wanted him to feel miserable, to be devastated and to regret what he had said back in the Tower. I just didn't know what I wanted.

I dropped to my knees, looking down into the water. I raised a hand tentatively, and slowly started the spell. The surface of the water wavered as when you throw a pebble, but then stilled on a small area. The rest of the lake seemed now to be quivering, little waves disrupting the peaceful waters.

I focused on what I wanted to see. I chose Stark, mainly because he was the easiest for me to picture and track, but also because a little guilty part of me desired to see him.

And image started to appear, blurry at first, but it became more and more defined with each second passing. I gasped sharply. The first thing I could see was him, Stark. He was dressed casually, well, as casually as Tony Stark ever dressed, and had his ever present sunglasses on. Then other figures appeared around him. The Avengers. Memories of my last nightmare flashed behind my eyes and I winced.  _Don't be a coward, you are awake now_.

_But the worst nightmares happen when you are awake._

They were all dressed informal too, but the fact that they were all together and in Avengers mode made it clear they were not there for fun.

Finally, the background materialised. It was a street, as any if the ones I had seen before in New York. Busy, noisy, crowded. They were indeed here, then.  _All_  of them.

They were walking down the street, but there were no jokes or light ambiance. There was no conversation, but the sounds would be muffled anyway. I only heard a tense comment from Stark trying to sound snarky but only managing to be uncomfortable.

It worried me, in a non-egotistical, selfless manner. And I didn't get a lot of those moments. What were the Avengers doing so tense? It couldn't be about me, could it? Was someone else causing trouble in the city? I concentrated on hearing what they were saying rather than on the image, despite that little part of me who wanted to keep stalking Stark for a while more.

"I can't believe he dares to appear here of all places." Said Hawkeye. "If I were him I would be on the other part of the planet."

"But you are not him. Uh, you'd better not be him. It would be terribly awkward in bed." Stark added.

_Oh._  So it  _was_  about me. Were they there just to look for me? What for?

"Tony, you didn't have to come. You could've stayed in the Tower." Bruce offered, looking at the billionaire from the corner of the eye. Stark sighed and suddenly appeared to look much older.

"I  _have_  to. I need an explanation. He fled before I could cool my head and think rationally. I need him to give me that explanation before we decide what to do with him."

_What to do with me? I am a prisoner no more! He can't just decide on my behalf. I am Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard and Jötunheim. A mere mortal, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist Anthony Fucking Stark or not, does not have the right to decide for me!_

Natalia raised an eyebrow. "I thought we agreed that we were going to capture him for questioning. Now that we know…" She trailed off slowly.

Now that we know  _what_?  _What_? What did cause my downfall this time?

"Tony, I know this is hard. But it's what we need to do. We can't trust him. We'll arrest him and keep him locked until we find out what is he up to." Rogers said, almost apologetically. "I am sorry."

Stark looked helplessly at Thor, who looked resigned and devastated. The Thunderer didn't even notice the glance as he was so busy staring at the pavement.

"What about… what about the others? According to the readings there were other two human like bodies when he teleported." Thor looked up inquisitively. "What do we do with them, if they are indeed human?"

"Kill them." "Bring them in for questioning too." Answered Hawkeye and Romanoff at unison. Thor winced at Barton's suggestion, but didn't say anything.

That helped me to think enough as to realise the situation. I quickly scanned the street I was looking at through the water, and found a little nameplate on the corner of the street. 47th and Sixth Avenue.

I closed the channel and sprung to my feet.

I ran as fast as I could towards the hotel, trying in vain to reach it before the Avengers did. I would not allow them to drag Sherlock into my own problems. They were mine, and I would deal with them somehow. I always did.

I ran in spite of the glares I got from running past people who looked as they believed I was going to rob them. Whatever, it was of no matter. I bumped into a couple of people I couldn't manage to avoid in time but didn't wait to apologise. This was exactly the problem with big cities. Too much people. Not enough politeness.

I saw the group arrive at the hotel front doors just the moment I turned a corner into the Sixth Avenue. I swore while panting and I gathered up all the energy remaining inside me. It wasn't nearly enough as to make me feel comfortable with it, but I had no choice. I ignored the slight complain of my subconscious and morphed into a random Midgardian. Dull, ordinary,  _boring_.

Then I teleported into the hotel room, hoping it was not too late already. Not again. Not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here Loki goes out to explore New York, and I've tried to stick to the actual plan of the city, but I don't know if it's completely correct. Sorry if there's any mismatch!


	11. The One Who Has A Superiority Complex

John found the note Loki had left, but didn't read it out loud. He refused. I walked up to his back and read it from above his shoulder.

_I could not bear your moans and whines a minute more so I've decided to go out to investigate the city._

_With love,_

_Loki._

_PS: Sherlock, dear, you really have to be more imaginative when giving blowjobs. I could teach you, tell me when you've grown bored of your entertainment. Or before, whenever pleases you._

I blushed and looked away, glaring at the bedside lamp. That crazy god would have a couple of words with me when he came back. How dared he. Yet, his tongue and the way he moved it when he spoke indicated a great control over the muscle, and probably strength. I wondered how would it feel to be sucked by that hot, wet mouth while… _No don't go there._

_Why are you even going there? You have John_ , said an accusing voice inside my head. He was right, but I didn't like to be pointed out my errors. Not even by my own mind.

I took the note from John's hands and tossed it into the bin after making a ball with it.

“Crazy stupid god” I mumbled, almost pouting. I was kind of irritated by the path my thoughts had taken just a moment ago, but at the same time I was elated after the shower sex I just had, and that's not a mood you can wipe out so easily.

“Do you want to have breakfast? I think I saw a restaurant in the lounge” asked John with a pleased smile.

“I'd rather have it here, I don't really want to get dressed” I answered, stretching. “I'll have breakfast brought to us.”

I sit on the bed and picked up the phone, my index finger hovering over the numbers. I dialled the reception's number and ordered two English breakfasts. I also asked at what time the restaurant stopped taking breakfast orders. Perhaps Loki hadn't eaten anything yet.

The receptionist was polite and efficient, but also gossipy, judging by some little comments she dropped in on our small conversation. I took the chance to get some first hand information about the latest news of New York.

“So, we have just arrived at the city, my partner and I, you know. But we don't want to do all the typical tourism, the monument seeing and all that. Too boring. We want something fresh, something we can gossip about back at home.” I licked my lips, letting the apparently innocent comment sink in. “I am sure someone as well informed as yourself can give us some advise?”

“Well, you can visit famous' residences. Some of them are quite impressive. You know, those enormous mansions just like in the magazines. One would think that's too much space for a person or a couple, personally I've never understood that, but they are each bigger than the last.”

She had swallowed the bait completely. But now she was rambling. I rolled my eyes as I heard her little soliloquy go on and on. I couldn't interrupt her, though, if I did she wouldn't be so forthcoming.

So I just offered a couple of comments at the right moments and let her finish. God, she talked so much and said so little.

“So a lot of celebrities have come to New York to live. Anyway, is there anyone you are specially interested about? Neil Patrick Harris or Nicole Kidman, for example?”

That was it.

“Actually, my mate was really excited when he discovered Tony Stark had a residence here in the city. He is such a fan, I have to try not to be jealous, but Stark is really good looking, isn't he? Do you know where his house is? And if he is currently here?” I prompted, trying to sound kind and innocent.

“I believe Tony lives normally in his mansion in Malibu, but the Stark Tower is famous, I though everywhere” she said, not even taking a second to breathe. “Well, now it's the Avengers Headquarters, you see. They changed the name after that invasion thing last year, the one with the aliens. I wasn't in New York at that time, thank God. It would have been frightening, wouldn't it? I think it would. Some friends of mine were and they all say it was. All the aliens were ugly creatures, they say. With big worm like machines and all the stuff. It was Iron Man, Tony Stark is him, the red and gold suit, you know, the one who got into that black hole kind of thing and saved us all. At least that's what the news said.”

Ugh, infuriating woman. But one of the things she had just told me had picked my attention.

“That's really interesting, Miss…” I trailed off, waiting for her to fill in the information. Maybe a bad choice, given her ability to talk and talk at any chance.

“Finkel. Roxanne Finkel.”

“Miss Finkel. But my boyfriend and I are in a little rush, since we are not staying for long. So, is Mr. Stark in New York? And where can I find the Stark Tower? I would really appreciate that, Roxanne.”

Basic psychological manipulation. Using someone's first name has a powerful yet subtle effect on that person. And offering personal information gives the other person a sense of trust on them that makes them more open.

“Oh, Stark Tower is really easy to find. Just get out of the hotel, down the street, and get into the underground. Five stops later, get out. You should see it from there. There's no losing yourself. And I do think Tony is in New York. At least that's what the tabloids were saying last week. Recently he has been spending more time here than in Malibu. I think it has something to do with his status as part of the Avengers now.”

She stopped for a moment, and I took the chance not to cut her off. There was one last thing I had to ask her.

“Thank you, Roxanne. We are going to visit it later today. One last thing, though, I do not want to keep you from your businesses. You said all the aliens from last year were, well, aliens? Wasn't someone with them, or leading them, someone who looked _human?_ ”

“Oh, don't tell me you are the conspiranoical type. Don't waste your time in such things, there's nothing there.”

“Conspiranoical?” _That's not even a proper word._

“You know, those who see conspiracies everywhere. There are some who claim to have seen a human in green and gold, with a horned helmet and a weird stick. But we would surely know if someone was behind it, right? Stop looking for what it's not there.”

“I'll take that into account. Thank you, Roxanne.”

I hung up, not giving her the opportunity to start rambling again. I had what I wanted, there was no need to put up with such a pantomime anymore.

I turned my back and saw John picking at his breakfast, a full English breakfast in an elegant tray. It must had been brought while I was on the phone. In front of John's plate there was another identical one. I sat with my legs crossed and stared at him intently for a moment before taking the spoon of the plate before me.

John lifted his eyes to meet mine.

“So” he started, swallowing a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Are we going to do tourism?”

“If you want to.” I shrugged. “I have to go to the Stark Tower anyway, which is in one of the most touristic parts of the city. Probably I won't be needing you, so you can go and see some monuments. Is that alright?”

“But…?” He asked, completing the unspoken part.

“But I won't be able to go with you. There is mystery, John!”

“Fine. Whatever. I'll leave you and your damn cases alone with that madman who thinks he is a god. Have fun.”

Great. Now he was angry.

“Don't be like that. I'll make it up for you. What about dinner?” His face started to soften slightly. “As soon as we have a free night we'll go somewhere nice. Cosy and intimate, just like you like it.”

“And when are we going to have a free night, Sherlock? Not anytime soon, that's for sure. You won't be able to concentrate until you have solved this, and after may be in a lot of time. So tell me.”

He was right. And that only made me angry too.

“Well, if you have so many complaints I'd better don't even try it. You surely can't settle with anything. Such an impossible man you are.”

He scowled and glared.

“That's rich coming from the man who has a superiority complex so big no one is worthy enough for his company or to be deemed with his words.”

John got up and grabbed his coat and wallet.

“Where are you going, John?” I asked, knowing the answer. Obviously outside.

“I don't know, Sherlock, _deduce_ it.” He widened his eyes in a disdainful gesture, heading for the door. When he was in the door frame the spoke again. “Or better, don't. I don't want you to follow me.”

He slammed the door shut and left me alone, sitting in the bed.

The silence fell in the room, and I cursed inwardly. Who did I curse, I didn't exactly know. Him, for being so stubborn, me, for never giving in, the situation, because that was what had triggered it, Loki, because he was the source of most of my problems right now.

But a small part of my brain was still functioning calmly as ever, and it was telling me him and I were the only ones to blame. It was neither Loki's fault nor the situation's, as it had only arisen something that was long below the surface.

I left the tray with my food untouched on the bed and wrapped myself around the blanket, feeling lazy enough as not to get dressed. I wasn't hungry. My eating habits were not fond of schedules.

I tried to get my mind off by doing some research about the Avengers and specially this Tony Stark.

The Internet was full of gossips and articles about him. Not so much about the superhero group, and mostly from a year ago, after the alien invasion. I ignored most of the gossips but I did pay attention to some of them. Every story has a little bit of truth behind. The thing is, some more than others.

Apparently he was a former gun inventor, whose nickname was The Merchant of Death. Until he was kidnapped and held captive by a group of terrorists who had his weapons. That must have made him reconsider his whole life. It's one of those moments that leave an indelible mark in your life. A point of inflection.

I knew how he had felt; I had felt it too. It had started with a _Goodbye, John_. But that was long passed and gone.

Now Anthony Stark was a billionaire philanthropist who was fully invested in clean energies and new ways of getting it.  Like the arc reactor. I didn’t find any schematics about it, but it seemed quite interesting.

Maybe I would ask Loki to get me some. When he could go back to Stark Tower, of course.

Suddenly, a silhouette started to appear from the thin air. At first I didn't notice as it was faint and fuzzy, but then it became clear it was there. I lifted my gaze in alarm, ready to defend myself or run if needed. Two seconds later, a brown haired man walked out of the green mist, a worried look on his face.

He was neither tall nor short, with no striking features. Brown hair, brown eyes. He was… ordinary. There was no other word for him. Yet he had materialised in front of my eyes. Not so ordinary.

“Loki?” I asked. The green smoke. It had to be him.

“Yes, I am Loki.” His voice was different, too. Plainer. I opened my mouth to comment on something, but he hushed me. “Sherlock, we do not have time. They are here. Anytime now, they will come through that door.”

I knew who _they_ was. The Avengers.

“What do they want? Do they know you are here?” Probably yes, but there was still a chance. Loki was staring at the floor.

“I don't know.” He darted his eyes towards mine. They were fierce, determined, piercing, yet desperate and expectant. “ _Help me. Please._ ”

That astonished me. Was that a plea? It definitely sounded like one. _You can analyse it after this urgent thing is over._ I tossed that thought aside and responded.

“What do I have to do?”


	12. Intimate, Scrutinising & Cocky

The first thing I felt after Sherlock said that was relief. I had been rejected so many times in my life before, with not even a chance to explain myself. Who would help the Trickster, the second Prince, always living under the shade of the beloved Thor? After all, I lacked the abilities that are valued in Asgard. I wielded magic, I used my brain and words to get away with mischief instead of being a dim-witted warrior who stabbed everything and anything before even asking.

Then  gratitude came. And happiness. I felt as he _cared_. It was a childish feeling, I know, but I couldn't help but to want to curl up in his arms and pretend nothing was ever or would ever be wrong.

I dwelled in that feeling for a moment before walking up to the laptop resting on the bed and touching it with the tips of my fingers.

I closed my eyes and transmitted all the magic the battery could endure to the device. That should make it harder for the Avengers to detect my magic here. I felt reluctant to let go such a big part of my magic, though, diminished as it already was.

“What are you doing with my computer?” Sherlock asked.

“Hush, I'm infusing magic into the battery so I can't be tracked down by it. Now be quiet.”

I finished the spell and also casted a cloaking spell to hide the rest of the tendrils of magic that could be around me. Just to be sure. My magic didn't escape my control anymore, not since a couple of centuries ago, but I didn't want to take any chances. Emotions were not exactly helpful when you needed control.

I looked around the room and found two trays of breakfast, one untouched, on the bed. I looked at Sherlock, and he held my gaze. I was already planning all the outcomes and variables of the situation.

I couldn't help but notice that he was only covered by a sheet, hair ruffled and eyes sparkly.

“I'll need you to trust me. Do you think you can do it, Sherlock?”

“I already told you, didn't I? Just tell me what do I have to do and stop wasting time.” He answered immediately.

“Sit on the bed, then. Eat something if you please. No, eat something. It will make it more natural. Let me do the talking. But you'll be the one actually _talking_.”

He looked at me with a confused frown, but a couple of seconds later he opened his mouth on a perfect O of understanding. By then I had already walked up to him, on the bed.

“You mean like telepathy or some kind of mental communication.” It wasn't a question. I nodded proudly; he had picked it up really quickly.

“It's kind of… intimate, though. I will be in your mind. I will be able to know everything you know.”

“Oh by God's sake. Just do it already.”

And with that he took my hand and placed it over his chest, for me to cast the spell. I could feel his rapid breathing and his heart beating in a steady yet frantic rhythm. His chest rose and fell with his breaths.

I inhaled deeply and searched for his mind. I did not need physical contact, but it made it easier for me. I soon found his mind and touched it lightly, resting the reaction. Well, _touched_. You know what I mean.

“Now I'm going to enter your mind, so please don't put up any resistance. It will make it more difficult.” I talked sweetly, quietly, with the aim of relaxing the agitated human before me.

I only needed a temporary communication channel, so I resisted the urge of spying. It would only waste our time, and it was short enough. I barely entered the most superficial layers of his conscience, the ones in charge of the external stimulus. I created the bridge that would allow me to talk into his mind and retreated.

“Now, I'll talk to you. Please, don't be scared.”

_Sherlock, can you hear me?_

He was silent for a moment, and then looked at me and frowned.

“I can hear you. But can't you hear me as well?”

“No, I can't, that's not—”

I was interrupted by a knock on the door. I swallowed hard and threw a glance at Sherlock, who answered with a reassuring look.

I opened the door and encountered the full united front of the Avengers. They weren’t wearing their gear but that didn’t make them less intimidating.

“Can I help you?” I asked coldly, raising and eyebrow. My whole body language was screaming indifference and annoyance.

“Er, yes, I was, we were wondering if we could come in?” Steve asked. Well, that was not the attitude of a leader. He definitely had a lot to learn yet.

“And you are?”

“I don't believe you don't know me. The rest of them, maybe, but me? Come on, man, I'm Tony Stark!” It took a real effort to look at him without showing any emotion. Then I let out an _oh_ of realisation.

“I know you. You are that playboy who makes weapons. Does this mean you are that superhero group, the one who destroyed New York last year?” I pondered for a moment. “How were you called? I can't quite remember.”

_Sherlock, ask me to let them in._

“James, darling, let them in. And it's Avengers.”

I rolled my eyes at the last part. And James? I didn't like that name. It was of no matter, though. I stepped aside to let them through the door.

_I am sorry for the lack of space, we weren't expecting visitors._

“We weren't expecting visitors, sorry there is no room.” Sherlock smiled apologetically. He was good, so out of his usual self. No one would suspect he wasn't like this.

_So, what does bring you here?_

“Is there anything we can help you with?” Sherlock repeated.

“Well, there actually is. We are looking for someone, someone we think is a criminal.” Captain America explained.

“We are no criminals, I can assure you that. Not that I'd tell you if I were, but you get the point.” I said with a smirk. Teasing Steve had always amused me.

_Don't act like yourself. They might figure out who you are if you keep behaving like Loki._

_Be James._

I sighed inwardly and saw Natasha's eyes fixed on me. I refrained from the impulse to narrow my eyes and shrank slightly, giving her the impression of intimidation. I hated it.

_Ask them about the appearance of the_ _criminal_.

“Could you describe to us what did this criminal you are looking for looked like? Maybe we have seen him or her without knowing what he really was.”

“Yeah, I think I have a photo here. Just let me check…” Stark prompted, searching his pockets for the image.

“Are you sure you brought it?” Agent Barton asked, half exasperated and half worried. “It wouldn't be the first time you—”

“Here! Here, see? I did brought it.” Stark interrupted, holding up a wrinkled photo.

“Give me that” said Hawkeye, snatching the image out of his hand. He walked up to Sherlock, ignoring me blatantly, and showed it to him.

A part of me wanted to be noticed, as it did most of times. But other part, the one in charge of mischief and cold thinking, knew anonymity was the best I could have.

That part won pretty much every fight ever.

_Show me the picture._

“James, come and see the picture. Don't be so grumpy.” Sherlock was sure having his fun with all this.

I rolled my eyes at him and came closer. He held out the picture and I could see it for the first time.

I knew the photo. I was the one who took it. It was folded in half, covering the part where Stark would be. We had gone out, a sunny day of summer. I didn't like the summer, so Stark had to practically drag me out of bed and Tower. But once I was outside it had been great. A whole day with Tony Stark all for myself.

We had stopped by this pond to buy ice cream, and I took the photo of both of us while we queued.

I didn't know he had kept it.

“I don't recognise the man on the image” I lied. “Do you, love?”

I looked at Sherlock penetratingly, daring him to object. He didn't. I refrained from the urge to smirk.

“Anything you can tell us would help.” Captain America was beside me the next moment. Shit, I hadn't noticed him. That scared me a little. He was looking hopefully at Sherlock, as if he had all the answers to the universe.

Which maybe he had, actually. Or at least he could deduce them.

_Obviously, say you don't know the man on the photo._

“I'm afraid I haven't seen this man in my life. Sorry. I hope you can catch him soon.”

“So, any other questions or we can all go on with our lives? My boyfriend and I were about to do, you know, _adult stuff_. I'll save you the gory details.” I asked. Maybe a sexual comment would scare them off. At least it would shy Steve away, that's for sure.

I saw Natasha narrow her eyes suspiciously. Damn, I felt like she could stare into my soul and manage not to get drowned by it and the darkness. It worried me, what she could do.

“Are you two… a couple?” Steve asked slowly.

“Yes we are. Do you have any problem with that?” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow, ready to judge him with my gaze.

“No, not at all, I mean, it's great that you've found someone. Er, uh, congratulations. I guess” he spluttered awkwardly.

I felt Natasha's eyes locked on my head as she leant over and whispered something on Thor's ear, whose eyes immediately widened. I didn't like that one bit. I'd better get rid of them sooner rather than later.

“You don't look gay” Stark pointed out. I looked at him, tilting my head to one side.

“Neither do you. And you've been seen in the tabloids with men” I snapped back. _How does someone look gay, anyway?_

“Fair enough” he admitted, his jaw strained. Then he quickly changed the subject. “Hey, Bruce, how's the scan going, man?”

“Nearly finished. Do you mind if I go around for a little bit?” he asked Sherlock, again ignoring me. Was it on purpose?

_Say yes._

“Of course you can, come and wander.”

Bruce smiled kindly and started to pace the room with that device. It beeped and threw a dim green light.

_Ask what does the machine do._

“What does that exactly do? It's safe, right?” Sherlock looked actually concerned. As if he didn't do experiments way more dangerous than any radiation the device could give on a regular basis.

“It's a timey wimey detector. It does ding when there's stuff” Clint answered. Sherlock laughed, but Bruce didn't look amused. I didn't get the joke.

“Actually, it's a specific wavelength energy fluctuation detector. It detects, uh, a kind of energy that—” he started explaining.

“Magic. It detects magic” Stark interrupted again.

“Magic. Right. Whatever, I shouldn't expect much from a bunch of people who believe themselves heroes” I mocked.

No one had the chance to answer that, as Banner had just finished running the scan.

“I'm done, guys. It's clean. No… energy… here.”

“There's obviously no magic here. Do we look like someone who wastes his time with magic tricks?” I asked.

“I guess not” answered Thor, still oblivious to banalities such as rhetorical questions and sarcasm.

_Tell them to leave._

“Is there anything more we could do? We really need to rest after the long trip by plane.” Sherlock made a gesture towards the door.

“We won't be resting, my dear” I pulled him to me and kissed him deeply.

_Oh by the Nine. At least it'll be worth it._

Some moments later, I reluctantly released a bewildered Sherlock and returned to the Avengers standing in the door frame.

“Still here? Come on, hurry up.”

One by one they exited the room. The last two were Natasha and Thor. The former gave me a scrutinising look and the later a look full of compassion and sadness.

_Damn_.

I didn't let my mask falter at the glances of any of them and instead gave them a mocking and cocky grin that would surely make them hurry in exiting the room. It worked, I guess, as they were out mere seconds later. 

Once the door was closed behind them I turned my back and cursed.

Damn, damn, damn, damn.

They had recognised me. Natasha had, that's for sure, and she had told Thor. No one would recognise me as well as Thor. Not even Stark.

“They don't know who you are.” I lifted my gaze to find a sheet wrapped Sherlock staring at me.

“She has. Romanoff, the redhead. And she has told Thor about it, to confirm it. They _know_ , Sherlock.”

“She hasn't. For being the God of Trickery you don't really get brain games. She was bluffing. Testing you, and me, by the way.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow, annoyed that he had to explain it. He didn't, but I wanted to know the details.

“First she was studying us, looking for any sign of nervousness or fake. She didn't, because I knew what she was looking for; I also use that technique. Anyway, lying and pretending come to you as natural as sass, so there was no problem with you either.” He sighed. “After the she has made sure that we were looking when she has whispered something on Thor's ear. I guess Thor, being your stepbrother, and having grown up together, is the closest to you and the one who could recognise you easier. It's logical she chose him to play that trick. She probably has asked him to stay a couple of moments more than strictly necessary to study our reactions better. I was looking at you and nothing of what you've done were indicators of your being Loki instead of Jim.”

I opened my mouth but closed again without saying a thing. It… made sense. It made sense in a true kind of way, not in an it-must-be-true-because-there's-no-other-choice kind of way.

I sat on the bed, relief and tiredness washing over me. All the exhaustion from the loss of magic was taking over me all of a sudden. My eyelids were heavy and I found myself not being able to keep them open.

“So… am I your boyfriend, it seems?” I heard Sherlock ask, and I heard more than see the smile.

“You have your little entertainment, don't you now?” I replied and yawned. “So, Jim?”

“Oh, just someone I… used to know. Maybe I'll tell you about him. If you behave.”

I knew there was something more to it, but I was too close to unconsciousness to care.

“I'm the God of Mischief. I misbehave” I fumbled, before I fell into the dark.


	13. The One Who Knows Him Best

He hadn't said anything about the kiss. Neither had I. But now that he was safely asleep I couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was uncalled for. I think. But I had liked it. Kind of. I shouldn't, right? I definitely shouldn't have liked it. John would probably be mad. Oh, right. He was already mad. He would be furious. What it's the way of action to calm your boyfriend after you've been kissed by a Norse God in disguise? It didn't seem like any help book I'd ever seen. But it hadn't been my fault, either. What was I supposed to do? Pull him back? It would have ruined it all.

_Yes, keep telling yourself that, maybe you'll believe it._

_Oh, shut up._

I stared at the sleeping god by my side. I couldn't believe he had actually kissed me. It was too all of a sudden for me to register it properly, but I had picked the sensations quite well. It had been a deep yet rushed kiss; Loki obviously hadn't planned it. It had been spontaneous. That meant it was something coming from the very core of him, something real. His lips were soft and cold, but not enough to make me want to pull away because of it.

His tongue had entered my mouth a little bit; he had stopped the kiss before he could go any deeper. Maybe when he had realised what he was doing. But being Loki, that was not likely. Chances were he didn't want to continue tempting himself.

I didn't want to either. I didn't know how, but Loki had really got under my skin. And most of the time on my nerves too. I mean, he is a high and mighty moron who likes to flirt and amuse himself.

I'm sure he hated being bored as much as I did.

I definitely wasn't going to tell John about this. It had meant nothing and it would only make him upset. I went to the closet and rummaged for something to wear. I found a simple black suit and the purple shirt I liked most and started to dress myself, eyeing Loki cautiously.

Loki, being Loki, God of Mischief, could easily pretend to be asleep to watch me get dressed. He had done things of the sort before.

I was about to exit the room when I remembered the note Loki had left. I decided to write one too, in case he woke up. I wasn't going to be out for long, but better safe than sorry.

_Loki,_

_I'll be back soon. So soon you won't probably read this._

_SH_

It was way less obscene than his, but I refused to get to his level. I would only be doing what he wanted.

This second attempt didn't make it to get me out of the room either. I noticed in the mirror the massive hickey I had in my neck. Quite visible, also. John had done it this morning, probably. I felt a little embarrassed but sceptical too. John was being territorial? That was not like him.

I finally exited the hotel room and went down to the lounge, where people were rushing in and out. Too noisy.

I decided to go for a walk, as did John every time he needed to calm down. I needed to find him; he maybe was in danger.

After all, if the Avengers had been able to find us in the hotel after just a day, maybe they knew where John was at the moment. And maybe they thought they could give him a try if they hadn't believed us.

I needed to find him before they did.

John, as nice and firm as he seemed, lacked of any abilities to deceive whatsoever. He could lie to most people, and they would believe him, but he couldn't pretend in such a big scale. He couldn't make the redhead believe he didn't know Loki.

Hell, he didn't even know what he had to say.

Stupid and proud John. Not taking his mobile phone with him so I can't call him. Or track him. Anyway if he wanted me not to follow him, he just needed to ask. He shouldn't go out alone without any means to communicate.

That gave me an idea. It was the logical course of action, but oddly I hadn't thought about it before. I obviously had to deduce where he had gone. That's what he had said, at least. _Don't try to deduce where I'm going._

Sorry, John, your hurt feelings can wait.

It must be a place without all the noise and the confusion of the city. Somewhere where he could be at peace, sulking alone. He was such a kid sometimes.

Where could he be then? There weren't many possible places. Somewhere quiet… I looked around me. Streets surrounded me. Nothing good. I knew we were close to Central Park, and that there were a lot of places where he could be undisturbed there. Yet I doubted John was hiding somewhere between the trees. He was a soldier; he was alert if he couldn't see around him. That included forests and wannabe forests.

No, it had to be someplace where he had a clear sight of everything. Quiet, calm and in the open. I looked up. People never look up. Not even in New York, home of the skyscrapers.

A roof.

_Oh, how ironic_. John had taken the habit of going to the roof to think and to get away from the world. No one hardly ever goes to the roof. Why should they? There's nothing that can interest those grey boring minds in a roof. Not even the sight.

I got back in the hotel. That was the only building whose roof John had access to. And if he could, I could.

I got into the lift and chose the highest floor. The hotel didn't have that many floors, but nevertheless it was higher than the average in England.

The last floor wasn't very impressive. It would mostly be used as storage. There were no rooms, just a massive attic full of cleaning material and cardboard boxes. On the other side of the room, in the very corner, there was a window, a skylight. It was big enough to let a person go through. And it was open.

I climbed onto the chair that was pulled under and looked outside.

There he was. John.

He had his back to me. He was sat on the floor. I got out and carefully approached him, but not too much. He was still mad, after all.

I cleared my throat loudly.

“Erh, hi, John.”

He turned quickly and glared at me, before turning his back to me again.

“I told you not to follow me.”

“Actually, I didn't _follow_ you” I answered.

“Sherlock, you know what I mean. What are you doing here?” He was still not facing me.

“The Avengers have just come. I was worried about you.”

I knelt behind him. He grumbled but didn't complain. Well, that was good.

“I thought they might go after you too.”

“What you were really worried about is that I might spoil whatever lie you and that madman have told them” He accused. I hugged him from behind.

“You are an idiot, you know that?” I whispered in his ear. “I was worried about _you_.”

“I'm still angry” He pouted.

“Of course you are.”

Memories of the kiss sprung to my mind, making me feel guilty. What for, though? I locked that feeling in a box and tossed it in the dungeons of my mind palace.

Better.

“But we have to go back. This changes everything.”

I started to kiss his ear, nibbling it lightly.

“Is that so?” He murmured, distracted. John tilted his head so he would give me better access to his neck. I purred and caressed the bare skin with the tip of my fingers, without letting the ear go.

I turned his head so I could kiss him in the mouth. I darted my tongue inside, twisting it with his. My fingers were entangled in his hair before I knew it, and his strong hands were behind my neck, holding me close.

John turned his whole body so he was facing me. I broke our kiss and admired the view for a moment. A grin spread over my face and John mirrored the gesture.

Without stopping smiling, I kissed him and bit him again and again, creating a path of love bites down his collarbone. The little noises he made were most encouraging.

But of course, something —or rather someone— had to spoil the moment.

My phone started ringing annoyingly. What a moment did it chose to come to life. I sighed and pulled out the infernal device, ready to mute it and continue. Probably it was just Lestrade, asking me for help with some case. Some too easy case to be of any use. But it wasn't him. It wasn't anyone I could recognise.

I sit up, now concerned, while the phone kept ringing. What if it was…? It couldn't be. He hadn't contacted me since St. Bartholomew. It was as if he were dead.

Just that he wasn't. I knew that.

“Sherlock, are you going to take it or not?”

I didn't respond; I was too centred on my concerns. Then John snatched the mobile from my hands and picked it up. I could only stare at him in disbelief.

“Hello?” He asked. His face immediate fell in irritation. Not Moriarty, then. Probably Loki. “What do you want, Loki?”

He snorted, exasperated, and passed me the telephone.

“So you are awake. I'm impressed” I observed.

“I am, indeed. I recovered the magic I had stored in your computer. I'm afraid it's fried, though.” He said, as if it didn't matter.

“It's _what_?” I screamed. “You'd better be talking about your magic and not my laptop.”

“Of course I'm talking about your computer. Magic cannot be fried, don't be stupid. That's just ridiculous.” Loki laughed, amused by the idea.

“You. Fix it.”

“Don't worry, darling. I will. Isn't it adorable when you get so moody? I just love it.”

“Loki, get to the point. Why have you called?”

“Because I missed you, of course.”

“Of course.” I repeated. _Of course_. That was hilarious. “Couldn't you wait? Not even a little?”

“I don't think I could've survived.” He answered, his voiced like a child's.

“Goodbye, Loki.” I was going to hang up, but I heard him through the phone.

“Sherlock, wait!” He took a deep breath. “Alright. Do you think… Stark… Tony… Will do something if I go to the Tower? If he is alone?” He sounded hopeful, and I didn't want to crash that, but I didn't want him to get hurt either.

“You are the one who knows him best. And while he did seem less _committed_ to the criminal part if our conversation, he paid great attention to whether we knew you or not.” I let that sink in for a couple of seconds. “Maybe I'm wrong, you know. Maybe you should—”

“Thank you, Sherlock. I'll see you later.” He interrupted, and hanged up.

“—wait before you see him.”

I sighed and put the phone back in my pocket.

“I guess that ruined the mood?” I asked apologetically.

“Yes it did.” John was angry. _Again_. Oh, by God's sake.

“But we can still—” I started, leaning over him.

“No we can't. You haven't even known Loki for that long and I'm already being replaced. And you think I'm going to be all cheerful and at your disposal? I don't think so.” He pulled back and got up, getting away from me.

“Well, maybe if you weren't so jealous and dependant on me you wouldn't be so paranoid.” I threw back. “I don't ask you to be cheerful and at my disposal, I ask you to help me with a case.”

“Oh, so you now only want me to put up with you in your damn cases. Wonderful.” John crossed his arms and stood proudly in his spot.

“That's the only thing you seem to like, John. Lately you've been distracted when you are with me. Bored, even.” I took a step in his direction, but he didn't walk back. A good sign.

“I am not bored. I'm just busy. I have a lot of things to take care of since you don't.”

“Don't even try to deny that. I know boredom when I see it. And I can take care of everything myself, _thank you_.”

“Yes, because keeping heads in the fridge is something a responsible and sensible person would do. _Obviously_.” He was now with his arms to his sides, piercing me with his gaze.

“You should know by now that my methods are not sensible nor I am a responsible person.” I narrowed my eyes, as I was getting closer and closer to him.

“Yes, because you are just a prick who doesn't even know the Solar System.” He accused.

“You're an idiot.”

Suddenly, I was kissing him, and he was kissing me back, roughly, fiercely. I bit his lip and he grumbled, digging his fingernails in my neck. John ran his fingers through my scalp and pulled at my hair, making me gasp sharply.

I separated our lips for a moment and quickly started to undress him, pulling at the edge of his jumper. He raised his arms to allow me to put it off, and I tossed it to the ground next to us. Then I started with the shirt, struggling with the buttons for a moment.

John growled in exasperation and bit my earlobe, demanding my attentions. I held back a moan and went back to kissing him, deeply, hurriedly.

It wasn't romantic, it wasn't careful. It was wild, it was rough, it was fire. Anger was brimming under the surface, anger we both needed to get out somehow. The yelling and arguing didn't work.

I finished undressing him and John had almost got rid of my clothes too.

“I want…” He started to mutter in my ear. “I want the crop.”

I grinned mischievously.

“It's in the hotel room. Not sure if there's someone there.” Notice the someone instead of Loki. John wouldn't be happy to hear that name.

“I don't care.”

I placed a hand behind his neck and pulled him backwards, towards the skylight. I didn't stop kissing those lips for a moment until he had to get down the window.

Once I was inside too, he took me by the arm and pressed his lips against mine. There was a mirror in the room and I saw the hickey he had made in my neck barely hours ago. I moved to the side to bit a trail down his neck and collarbone, until I reached his nipple. I tugged and teased it as we walked down the corridor and into the lift.

Fortunately no one saw us as we reached the room. When we were inside, I pined John against the wall.

“I'll be right back.”

I turned and searched the suitcase. There it was. The riding crop. Oh, so many fantasies and experiments it had brought.

Loki wasn't around, which meant he had gone to the Stark Tower to see Tony. It should have bothered me, but I was pretty busy at the moment as to even register it.

John was looking at me expectantly, pupils dilated with lust and the promise of sex. I raised the crop and brushed it over his face. He closed his eyes. He was hard, and so was I. There was no time or need for preliminaries then.

I brought the crop to his body, once, twice thrice. John arched with each blow, whining and writhing. The crop left red lines in his chest and belly.

I slammed him against the wall, holding him up as I slid a digit into his tight ass. He gasped and moved nervously, trying to get the most he could of the finger inside him. I slid another and rapidly moved it in and out. He moaned and growled and gasped.

“The noises you make are delightful, John. Don't stop. Don't ever stop.” I muttered into his ear, before biting and nibbling it.

A third finger followed and John pushed himself up and down, deep to my knuckles. I moved my fingers inside, and I was wondered by the effect I had in him.

After he was prepared, I lifted him a little bit and slid my cock between his legs, pushing mercilessly.

I was angry. He was angry.

He cried out when I thrusted and he placed his hands in my back for support. John dug his nails along my skin, surely leaving marks. I kissed him again and bit his lip harshly as I pushed again deeply.

John wasn't minding the roughness and neither was I. I _needed_ it that way. I don't think I could have stood it gentle and kind. This was best now. This was perfect. Wild, hard, fast. It was frenetic and amazing.

I freed a hand and brushed it with his hair, loving the sensation of his fair hair entangling with my fingers. Then I moved it down and started to masturbate him with it, rubbing circles over the head of his cock.

I pulled and bit his earlobe, his neck, his jaw. I drank in his scent, his view. Sandalwood and soap and sweat and sex. What an amazing combination.

John climaxed beneath me with a scream calling my name, before going limp in my arms. I was near now, I felt that sensation building up inside me. I quickened the rhythm and after some thrusts I also climaxed, burying my face in the space between John's shoulder and his neck to muffle the sound.

We were both panting. We stayed like that for what felt like a long time. I finally pulled out of him and lifted my eyes to meet his. John's gaze was fixed in mine.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered. “I shouldn't be jealous. I know nothing could happen between Loki and you. I trust you.”

A sudden stab of guilt hit me, but I remained silent. I didn't want to ruin it again. John took my silence as acceptance and smiled.

“We should take a shower. I'm sticky.”

I laughed at that and smiled too. I was not going to be brooding for what Loki had done.

“Me too. Let's go.”

I let him guide me into the shower, where probably more sex awaited.


	14. Supremacy, Power & Dominance

I had a chance. A slim one, and it was probably desperate, but I couldn't let go. After seeing Stark in the hotel room, I needed to talk to him. As Loki, not as some poor and dull Midgardian called Jim. And being Loki included manipulation and lies.

I had to call Sherlock, though, just to be sure. I still had a rational part who knew this was not a smart idea.

I chose to ignore it.

It had probably been that part's idea to phone Sherlock. Hoping he would forbid me going to see him. It was one of the most reckless actions I had done in a long time. It was risky, but I had to do it. I had to make sure Stark was where I wanted him to be. Sherlock hadn't said anything. That was _encouragement_.

I dressed with Asgardian clothes, for Stark to think I wasn't hiding somewhere in the planet but in some other realm. I didn't use the armour, though. I only wanted to talk with him. What would I say? I don't know. Something. Everything. Anything.

Words would come to me once I was in his presence. As always. Most things needed to be planned to the detail. Not this kind. You could never anticipate how it would work out, how would it end. No, with this kind of thing I needed to improvise.

Before I left I repaired Sherlock's computer. It was my fault it was broken, after all. _Maybe_ I had miscalculated the amount of magic it could contain without overloading. Or maybe I knew it would burn but simply didn't care. I guess we'll never know, right?

This time, however, I used just what was necessary. I wanted to fix it, not fry it again. Can you fry something twice? I whispered a quick spell and checked the damage was repaired. I trusted my abilities completely, but I had to.

I had to calm down before going anywhere.

The spell had _of course_ worked. The computer was back and it functioned perfectly.

I couldn't delay my departure anymore, so I gripped my tie pin and made myself invisible. I also put a veil on my magic, just in case. If I was going for inconspicuous I'd better do it right. Then I teleported into Stark Tower.

Jarvis didn't notice my presence, or at least didn't acknowledge it. That was a good sign. Stark had it programmed to alert out loud any intrusion.

My status hadn't changed, then.

I looked around me. I was in the lounge, which was deserted. I searched the entire floor, but no one was there.

Reluctantly I moved to the lift, but I didn't take it. That would most definitely alert Stark or anyone of my presence. I teleported to Stark's personal floor.

His bedroom and the workshop were the two most likely places for him to be. But if he were in the workshop there would be music blaring through the speakers down there, reaching even some of the higher floors. The bedroom was, then.

_But maybe he isn't in the Tower at all._

Actually I had thought about it, as none of the Avengers was in the lounge. But just before calling Sherlock I had checked and he was. He couldn't have just gone out again, right?

I wandered across the floor, looking for Stark. I found him in his bedroom, just where I thought he would be.

He was sat by the window, just staring out of it. He had a glass of whiskey in his hands, and a bottle of the same liquid was in the table, only half full.

_Oh, so soon to be drinking, Tony. I thought I had corrected that._

He wasn't facing me nor with his back to me. I could appreciate the game of shadows his cheekbones and lips played. I could see his Adam's apple moving up and down when he swallowed. I could hear him sighing. He thought he was alone, that's why he allowed himself to sigh.

I quietly murmured the spell to make me visible again and waited. I didn't say anything, just waited there. Stark finally got up to get another bottle of alcohol and saw me.

“Loki” he breathed.

“Indeed” I answered.

We weren't moving at all. We were frozen. Stark slowly put the empty bottle and glass on the table and approached me.

“How… You… Why are you here, Loki?”

Alright, that question hurt me a little.

“I… needed to come. I wanted to see you. I just…” I trailed off, letting him fill in the silence.

“Where were you? We were worried about you, you know. Running off like that, without explanation.”

I took a step back, struck by his words.

“You didn't need an explanation. It was pretty clear you didn't want me anymore.”

“How can you say that? I've been looking for you for days. I've used all the resources to find you” he said, without closing the gap between us.

“I…” I stopped and turned, closing my eyes. “I don't even know why I have come. I shouldn't have. This is ridiculous.”

I started to walk towards the door, but Stark stopped me.

“Loki” He made a pause. “Please. Stay. Talk to me.”

I looked at him in the eye. Yes, there it was. Words were rushing into my head, ready to come out of my mouth. Already scheming, already plotting, already manipulating. I knew exactly what to say to create the reaction I wanted, _any reaction I wanted._

“Why don't _you_ talk to me? Why don't you tell me what happened before I left, why you all became so cold and distant at once?”

I watched as something crumbled in his eyes.

“Loki, there wasn't anything…” He started.

“Oh, don't you dare say that to me. I know a lie when I hear one. I knew exactly what happened. It was obvious your whole demeanour was different. So don't you dare say it was nothing.” Without noticing, I had closed the distance between us, and I was now towering over him. I backed off a little. “Don't you dare” I repeated, this time softer.

Stark sighed, looking down.

“Loki, look. There was this woman, she told us… something about you. About who you are. All the blue stuff, right?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the tension.

That part I had already assumed. And the woman was Amora. I knew that for sure.

Still, being underestimated always comes in handy.

“Oh, my true heritage.” I tried to sound upset, even if I had come to terms with that matter. “Jotünn. Who told you? I doubt Thor…” I trailed off, encouraging him to fill in the blanks again.

I was manipulating him, even without noticing. Not even wanting to. Right, that last part wasn’t true. Another lie. My mistake.

“No, it wasn't Blonde Big Guy. She was Asgardian, though. Amora, I think it was her name. God, you guys really have weird names. Is it a fetish or something?”

“Tony” I warned.

“I know. It's just… It was a lot of crap about you, and I guess I doubted. There are plenty of centuries of your life I know nothing about!” He paused for a moment. “Look, I know this wasn't easy, but I don't think it was reason enough as to abandon us all. It wasn't a path of roses for us either.”

“It wasn't easy for you? It wasn't easy, you say? Try and be on your own in a realm you know nothing about, no magic, no contacts. Try, and tell me it was easy.” Well, that wasn't _technically_ lying. Compared to the amount of magic I normally have that was nothing. And I did have contacts, just decided not to call them. So it's the same as if I didn't have any.

“Loki…”

“No Tony. Don't.”

“I'm sorry, okay? I should have trusted you. I shouldn't have believed her.”

He looked rather awkward. Apologising wasn't in his everyday schedule. Now I had him exactly where I wanted him. He just needed a last little push. I looked Stark in the eye.

“I love you.” I whispered. Somehow it left a bitter taste on my mouth, but I didn't care.

“I love you too.” He answered.

He pulled me to him and kissed me. My initial plan hadn't included this, but I had expected it. It would be a bonus.

I returned the kiss, entwining our tongues and pulling him by the shirt closer to me. Stark slid his hand down my back and rested it just where my ass started. I growled in complaint and he smiled and placed it over my ass, squeezing it softly.

I kissed him fiercely, making up for the lost time and all the frustration and anger. I drank his scent and lost myself in it. Not for long, though, as Stark bit my lower lip. I moaned and entangled my fingers in his hair, clean and grease free for once.

I had missed this. _My body_ had missed this. It reacted to Stark's touch in ways I wasn't even aware of.

I started unfastening the belt of his trousers and unbuttoning his shirt. I brushed my fingers against his flat stomach, his abs, his chest. I got rid of all his clothes first and then Stark helped me remove my own.

“Bed” I murmured. The impressive bed in Stark's bedroom was soaked in his scent and it brought delicious memories.

“Bed” He agreed, and picked me up as if I were made of air. I passed my arms behind his neck for support and entangled my ankles.

Stark laid me down on the soft mattress and started kissing my jawline and neck, nibbling and biting and sucking while his hands travelled down my chest and belly, sending chills down my spine.

I inhaled sharply as Stark dug his teeth in my skin and I scratched his back.

I growled and got on my elbows, gaining a confused look from Stark. I pushed him by his chest and got up. Still with the palm of my hand wide open over his arc reactor, I turned and pushed him on the bed again. Blue light poured from between my fingers. This time the look he threw me was playful and sly.

I got on my knees on the bed and purred on his ear, feeling goosebumps appear on his skin as a response. That made my smile pleasantly.

I got down and passed a finger along his hard length. I blew on the tip and he shuddered. I brushed the head with my tongue and made slow circles before swallowing it all.

Stark gasped and arched his back as I sucked mercilessly. One of his hands went to my head to encourage me up and down.

Stark's moans and growls augmented until he was on the edge of climax. I didn't let him finish, though. Just before he could cum, I pulled back and stared at him.

“Loki, Loki, continue, love” He whined.

“But why, my love? After all the pain you've caused me you don't deserve the pleasure of cumming.” I was being selfish and cruel, but then, that's kind of my thing. I wanted revenge, and sex is what Stark loved most.

“You also hurt me, and I am not punishing you.” He continued complaining.

“Yes you are, my love. Yes you are. With those eyes and pleading face, claiming innocence and naivety” I answered. I got closer to him once again. “ _I_ want to cum, though. Such situations you put me in.”

I took his hand and guided it to my ass, searching with a finger my hole.

Stark pressed and started moving the finger in and out, slow at first but quickly fastening the pace. A second finger followed and I gasped.

Too long. It had been too long without this.

When three digits were inside me, moans were escaping my lips and I found myself leaning on Stark's chest for support.

“Stark… I'm ready” I murmured in a husky voice. He understood me, though, as he got the bottle of lubricant from the nightstand.

“Turn your back” He ordered.

“I don't want to. Take me, Stark. I want to see your face while you do so.”

A mischievous grim spread on his face and I returned the gesture.

Sex between Stark and I was always a battle. A battle for supremacy, for power, for dominance. Always wanting to overpower the other, make him bend under our wishes and desires. Sometimes I won, sometimes he did. Today I was too resentful and hurt as to let him win.

I liked it as a battle, though. I really love a good challenge. The satisfaction once you've achieved what you wanted, once you see Stark writhing and shaking as he climaxes. Because of _me_.

He positioned himself between my legs, and slid his cock inside me, deep. He stilled and I shifted to accommodate it, to get used to it. Well, not so much get used to it but welcome it back.

Stark slid his cock almost completely to then bury himself in me again, fast and hard. I hissed and he chuckled.

“Are you enjoying your punishment, my love?” He asked seductively. I growled as a response. Stark laughed again.

The man repeated the process, this time a little bit more carefully. And again and again, Tony Stark pounded into me as I saw his expression morph and become one of pure pleasure.

In one of the thrusts, he hit my prostate and I screamed. Stark angled again for that spot until I was over the edge. He would probably want to take revenge for interrupting his climax before, so I hurried and looked for that last push I needed.

One last thrust was my undone. I climaxed and melted like wax, falling limp on top of him. He continued for a bit more until he also orgasmed.

We stayed like that for a long time, I think. I wasn't really paying attention, sue me.

“Will you come back?” Stark's voice snapped me out of my reverie.

“I do not know” I answered. It was the true. Most of it, at least. I could hardly ever speak the complete truth. And a part of me didn't want to go back.

“Do you have somewhere to stay? Are you eating well?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Last time I checked, that was none of your business, _mum_.”

“Loki.”

“Will you come after me? Or the Avengers?” I asked. Now or never, he would never be so vulnerable and open again.

He was silent for a long time.

“Probably” He breathed at last.

I moved to get up and get dressed.

“I have to go, Stark.”

“Do you have or do you want to?”

“Both.” That now, wasn't a lie. A little miracle.

“Loki.” He called.

I conjured my clothes and turned.

“I may or may not have come here today. Your choice, Stark.” I said.

Then I teleported out of the building.


	15. The One Who Has An Idiotic Soldier For A Boyfriend

The shower had, indeed, meant more sex. I was exhausted now, but with that delightful kind of post sex exhaustion.

“John. We left our clothes in the roof” I said. He looked at me, taking a moment to remember. Then he grumbled.

“You are right. Damn. Maybe we should go get them back? Before someone sees them.”

“That would be quite awkward, indeed” I answered.

“I’ll go get them, you wait here” John offered.

“Oh Hell no. You are not going alone. What if the Avengers get to you? No way, your incapable of lying.”

He didn’t seem bothered by the comment, though.

“Then get dressed and let’s go.” It was the only this he replied.

I quickly got dressed _again_ and added a blue scarf and coat to the outfit. It covered the hickey. As I put on the clothes, John eyed me greedily.

“We just had sex, twice. You can’t possibly want more” I observed.

“While I would really love to argue with you on whether or not I can want you, I would also really appreciate if you hurried.”

“You hurt my feelings, doctor Watson.” I tried to sound falsely offended.

“I’m sure I don’t. Now come on.”

“Exasperating person you are” I mocked.

“That’s rich coming from you, Sherlock” He replied, kissing me chastely in the lips.

We got back to the roof and picked up our clothes. None of us commented the last time I had been on a roof. What for? Ruin the mood? I scanned the surroundings for any sign of the presence of the Avengers or any person, but it was clear. Fortunately we didn’t find anyone in our way either. The less people who saw us the better.

Once back in the room I took my computer and turned it on. It worked. At least Loki had fixed it before leaving. I looked at the clock. An hour and a half since he called. Probably an hour and something since he left. It was not enough time as to worry about it yet.

“What are you thinking about?” John inquired.

I was about to say Loki when I realised I was going to say Loki. Then I thought again. John would be bothered if I said that, and we had just made up, I didn’t want to screw it so soon again. But I didn’t want to lie to him either. What would happen if I couldn’t even be honest with my boyfriend?

“About Loki” I started. He shifted lightly, barely noticeably. “About how long has he been out with Tony Stark and if I should worry or not yet.” I hoped the _with Tony Stark_ part would placate him, but I wasn’t sure.

“I see.” It was the only thing he answered. I rolled my eyes, fully aware that he couldn’t see me.

I turned my attention back to the computer screen. I opened internet and searched Avengers. Thousands of entries.  I clicked the photo search and chose one of the group images.

“So John, first you need a little background. These are the Avengers.” I made a gesture with my hand towards the image. “This is Thor. He is also a Norse God, like Loki. He is the God of Thunder and future king of Asgard. Loki told me some of our mythology is actually true, so that’s where I’ve got most of my information about him—“

“Wait, Loki said the mythology is _true_? Like, all the myths? Loki’s too?” John asked, a little too enthusiastic. I glared at him; I don’t like to be interrupted.

“Yes, they are. John, stop plotting against Loki and focus, please. He could easily smite you off the face of the Earth if he wanted to.” I threw some last daggers towards him with my eyes and continued. “So, that is Thor, beware Mjölnir, the godly mighty hammer. As the heir to the throne, he will probably want to use diplomacy at first but his raze are warriors above all. Prowess in battle and physical qualities are valuated highly. Loki is a rarity, as he wields magic. Next. Oh yes. That one is Bruce Banner, at least when he is human. Brilliant mind, he is specialised in gamma radiation. He also turns into a green beast when he is angry. You can’t really avoid anger, though. So he must have another technique to keep the beast at bay. He can’t afford to let it loose each time he is angered. He is a calm man, anyway. Centred in others, in helping. A way of making up for all the damage he thinks he’s caused. People like him often feel like they owe the world for what they’ve done. We must take into account both Bruce Banner and the Hulk, even if Banner won’t be so given to take part.”

I made a pause to give John the chance to assimilate everything I was saying. He nodded and I continued.

“Then come the two assassins. They work for SHIELD and are not as public as Iron Man or Captain America. Actually, all the information I’ve found is obviously false. Someone put a great effort in creating good fake identities, though. So they’re experts in what they do, and have a shady past both of them seem to want to leave behind. The Avengers is their redemption, or at least that’s how they see it. By the way they move and act, especially Natasha Romanoff, the redhead, they are either spies or assassins or both. Doesn’t it go in a pack nowadays?” I didn’t give John the chance to react. He didn’t anyway.

“She is better in short range battle, hand to hand combat, while Clint Barton’s —the other man— obvious choice of weapon is a bow. He wouldn’t choose such an unusual arm if he weren’t extraordinary with it. Anyway, both can use a gun perfectly fine. What kind of spy doesn’t?”

I took a deep breath because not even I can speak that much without even a break.

“The next one is Captain America. Steve Rogers is his real name. The man out of time, the hero from the World War II. As a military, you have probably heard about him, John. As someone who grew up in the 40s, he has traditional ideas, quite conservative. But since he now is in this time, he has had to accept some new ways of thinking. He is a man able to adapt, both as someone who skipped 70 years of History and as a soldier. He is a super soldier thanks to a serum created in the war, but he was the only one to try it as the scientist who created it died before further experiments could be done. He was chosen for a reason, not just as a soldier but as a person. That indicates qualities such as kindness, altruism and putting others before oneself, but also leadership skills and the greater good kind of stuff like actions. He also may be the Avenger with more objections towards the relationship between Tony Stark and Loki, because—“

“Relationship? What relationship?” John asked suddenly.

I looked at him, momentarily puzzled. Then it made sense. John didn’t know about Loki and Tony.

“Relationship. As in romantic relationship. Love and sex and dates. You know the kind, right?” I arched an eyebrow and leaned with my hands on my chin, blinking repeatedly. John looked away.

“Yes of course I do.”

Even before we started officially dating, when the idiotic soldier of a boyfriend that I have still complained that _he was not my date_ , we had gone out to quite a lot of date likes. Dinner, walks, escapes from the police and all those completely normal things.

“I didn’t know that” John added.

“I know you didn’t.”

“And you didn’t tell me and you let me get jealous” He pouted. “I don’t think that even Loki would cheat that Tony Stark if he loves him.”

“Actually, now Loki must be in Stark Tower with him. Before, when he called, he told me he was going to go.”

“Did he?”

“Well, he didn’t _tell_ me, but it was obvious. Even you could have known it.”

“Oh thanks, I suppose” John replied sarcastically.

“You’re welcome, John. My little scandalised idiot.” My little scandalised idiot glared at me but remained silent. “Anyway, I was about to start with Anthony Stark when you interrupted me so rudely.” I made a short pause. “Let’s see then. Tony Stark is the genius heir of Stark Industries, which before produced weapons but now is invested in new renewable energies such as the arc reactor. He is also the Iron Man. All his life he has been the great hope, the son of the legendary Howard Stark, so the expectations and fame of him must have caused a deep impact in his personality. Many people who claimed to be his friends would have resulted in fame seekers and gold diggers. That has made him a really extrovert person, at least in the outside, as social skills are needed to sell any kind of product and he is the CEO of Stark Industries. In the inside, though, he feels lonely. In part because of his experiences with his father and betrayals from people he trusted and in part because of his genius. Intelligent people are lonely.”

I noticed John staring at me intently. I chose to ignore him.

“Out of the Avengers, he is the one most likely to help Loki, because of their connection. I do not know to what extent is his loyalty to them, though. We can probably persuade him to help Loki out with the correct… stimulation.”

“You mean manipulation.”

“I mean manipulation, but it is a word I’m not fond of. Correct stimulation sounds way better. Don’t you think?”

John just sighed, exasperated.

“Whatever. What are you going to do, then?” He inquired.

“I need time to think. And Loki is not here yet. I don’t want to have to explain the plan twice, anyway” I answered.

“Then tell me what happened with the Avengers before” John asked.

“I was going to do so, but you are really impatient.” I tsked.

Then I told him most of the events of that morning, leaving Loki’s sudden kiss out. How Loki had appeared in the hotel room under another appearance, how he had concealed his magic —burning my laptop in the process, I still don’t know if he had done it on purpose or simply didn’t care at all—, then how the Avengers had arrived and I explained the conversation we had had. What information they had been more recalcitrant about, what they had been looking for. I told him the Doctor Who joke and he laughed.

When I finished, nearly twenty minutes later, he left the room to let me go to my mind palace. He had his mobile with him, though. Now he knew what to say if the Avengers were to go for him, but still.

During the next hours I concentrated on what to do next, on anticipating any outcome or movement. Oh, I missed this. It had been a while since I had such a big case.

Time flew, and I didn’t even notice when John came back.


	16. Past, Present & Future

I didn’t return to Sherlock until the next day. I needed time to think. About the situation, about the Avengers, about Stark, about the future. That last part was, despite everything, the one that worried me most.

I am not nor was I ever immortal. I have lived long, and longer will I last. Relationships are born, bloom and die, especially amongst Midgardians. So ephemeral, so futile. It was almost funny, how much could they do in so little time. In the course of their lives, most did nothing, at least in the eyes of a god like me. According to themselves, they did great things.

Perspective.

But others, a few, did things. Changed the world. They didn’t have to be gifted, even though most of them were. Like Sherlock. He would be one of those special people, I was sure of that. Eventually, but he was so young yet. Not even four decades.

I remember when I was forty year old. By Asgardian standards —and Jötunn too, more or less—, I was a teenager. So was Thor. We were two different types of youngsters, though.

He was arrogant and bragged and fought and was sighing for a different maiden each fortnight. I spent most of my time in the Royal Library, practicing magic, either for amusement or mischief. That was the time when I earned the title of God of Mischief and Trickery, too.

I envied Thor for being so popular amongst our people, for being so easy and sociable.

He was the Golden Boy, the future king.

_And I?_

I was the shadow, always behind him, omnipresent, always hiding things like only the darkness can, always working in the deep.

It’s true that I often manipulated him into certain decisions, but I only did so when his pride and foolishness were going to make him make a mistake.

I was _protecting_ him. 

* * *

 

I woke up in a deserted roof. The morning Sun bathed everything in sight, claiming its reign over the planet, casting out the last of tendrils of darkness until the Moon came back to defeat the Sun one night more.

Sleeping in the cement floor didn’t bother me, as I had slept in places way worse. Where I slept was not of no matter, as long as I had somewhere barely suitable.

I stretched to get rid of the soreness of sleeping in such a place and looked around. The roof wasn't totally deserted after all. There was a little greenhouse some metres to my left. Oh right. The building was the highest skyscraper in sight, so no other construction blocked my view.

I had chosen this place the night before for that, in part. Also because the greenhouse reminded me of the forests in Alfheim. And because I could see the night sky, the stars, different yet the same to the ones in Asgard, or any other of the Nine Realms.

I loved the stars. They reminded me that whatever places you visited, whatever you did and no matter how long you lived, there will always be something new, something waiting to be discovered. I don't quite know if that's encouraging or disheartening. It's scary and impressive, if not anything else.

It kept me marvelled by the world.

I quickly found out the location of Sherlock and his annoying entertainment and since it wasn't that far I decided to walk. Magic could be detected, especially something as big as teleportation.

I jumped into a dark alley, taking advantage of the relatively deserted streets and the fact that the sun was still rising.

Fortunately no one saw me, so I could avoid having to erase their memory, as magic was exactly what I was trying to avoid.

I landed swiftly on my feet and changed my appearance and clothes. This was New York, but even here I would stand out with Asgardian clothing. Maybe a little magic was needed after all.

I morphed into a woman this time. What can I say, I like variety. She —I— was wearing a pencil skirt and a professional bun. I walked down the streets and turned the corner when needed. It wasn't that far from where the hotel was but still it took me more than an hour to arrive. Somewhere in the middle I took off my high heeled shoes and walked barefoot. It was indeed New York; no one even gave me a look. Humans had probably seen much worse. Or simply didn't care.

I entered the main hall of the hotel and walked towards one of the lifts, before I realised I didn't know which room Sherlock was in. When I had teleported I had aimed for him, not for the room. But I didn't want to use magic now, especially not this close to the detective. It may uncover us.

So I sighed and went to the reception.

"Excuse me" I said to the boy behind the desk. He couldn't be more than thirty. "Can you tell me in which room is Sherlock Holmes currently residing?"

He looked at me, momentarily puzzled.

"I'm afraid I cannot provide that information since Mr Holmes hasn't stated he would have a visit, Madame."

I saw the interested look in the boy's eyes and immediately exploited it to my advantage.

"Miss Donovan, please. I'm single", I said, as if I were commenting on the weather. The eyes of the boy lit up momentarily. Bait taken.

"So tell me, Miss Donovan, why do you want to know in which room is this man?" It looked like an innocent question but I could hear the undertone.

"Oh, you know, business. Paperwork and contracts to sign. Boring. The man doesn't know how to party, to be honest. I'm new here, you see, and I would love if someone would show me the best parts of the city to go clubbing. Not him, I'm afraid."

It wasn't very subtle, but it didn't need to be.

"I could show you, if you wanted. I've been living in New York my whole life, and before I got this job I was a bartender in Greenhouse, which is one of the best clubs of New York," he offered. I smiled beamingly at him and batted my eyelashes lightly.

"That would be lovely, Mr…?" I raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Riley Sanders, Miss Donovan."

He smiled back, enthusiastic as a puppy. I could almost picture its tail moving before his master and the promise of a walk.

"Please call me Cassie. My name is Cassandra." I leaned forward a little but, resting my elbows in the counter. "But first I have to finish all this boring paperwork," I pouted. "Are you sure you can't tell me his room number so I can be free for tonight?"

"Well, seeing as you have important matters to discuss with him, I could make an exception. I wouldn't want to interfere with your work, Cassie."

I smiled and reached out to rest my hand in his arm.

"Thank you very much, Riley."

He motioned for the computer and I eyed him expectantly. Irritant Midgardian. So easy to persuade. It just took a little bit of flattery and flirtation. And to thought I wasn't able to defeat them… Not that I had truly wanted to, but still. It hurt my ego.

"There's no one registered under the name of Sherlock Holmes, Cassie. Maybe he hasn't arrived yet? You can wait here if you want," he informed me.

I groaned inwardly. Great. I had wasted time talking with and pretending I was interested in this poor petty human.

But then I recalled it hadn't been Sherlock the one who had booked the hotel room, but his little entertainment.

"Try with John Watson, Riley dear."

He seemed pleased by the nickname and typed in the new name.

"Yes, there's a result. Room 975. I will write it down for you."

"Thank you, Riley." I smiled.

"My pleasure." He smiled too, satisfied with himself, and handed me a paper. I looked at it and saw that it didn't only have the room number. His telephone was also written in neat blue pen.

"I'll call you when I finish this business."

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. I wasn't going to call him, of course. I waved and got into the lift. Ninth floor.

Oh, it really unnerved me treating with Midgardians.

Every hallway looked the same, but I found the correct room and knocked on the door. Some seconds later an startled John opened.

"Aren't you going to let me in?" I asked, tapping impatiently on the floor.

"Sorry, you are?" He asked politely. All mannerisms all of a sudden.

"I should have known a mortal like you wouldn't be able to figure out the obvious."

He now looked annoyed, the confusion and politeness gone from his gestures. He still was blocking the door, though.

"Hello, Trickster," I said, pointing at my face.

"I know." His expression hardened. "Where have you been? And why are you a woman now?"

"Oh, were you missing me, concerned about my fate? That's adorable, but you don't have to worry about me. I am a god. I can take care of myself."

"But why are you a woman now?" He insisted. I took the chance to mock him.

"Why are you so interested in that, soldier? Do I make you uncomfortable or you like me better this way?" I purred, taking a step closer to him. He mirrored my gesture and took a step backwards, leaving the threshold.

"If you will excuse me now." I smiled wickedly. So easy to get the reaction I wanted. Mortals.

I strutted inside and saw Sherlock sat on the middle of the bed, eyes closed and hands together, as if he were praying. To whom I did not know. He didn't seem the praying type.

"John, that's Loki," he said without opening his eyes.

"No shit Sherlock" replied his lover.

"You looked confused about his — _her_ — identity. I thought you would want someone to clarify it for you."

"Dim-witted mortal you are, pet" I mocked. The object of my mocking glared but didn't say anything. A pity, really. I wanted some fun.

"How was Stark?" Sherlock asked suddenly. He still hadn't moved or opened his eyes whatsoever.

"It was… fine. He is where I want him to be. He will be easy to deal with; may even help us" I answered, unsure of what to say. Stark actually was where I wanted him to be, but if hadn't been _fine_. It had been painful for both of us. Lies again, even if everyone lied in these matters.

"Liar" the detective accused, seeing through me. I squinted. He had picked the lie at the first time. "Was the sex good, at least?"

At that I grinned mischievously. I really did not know how did Sherlock know that without even looking at me once, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

"I will let that to your imagination, my dear Sherlock" I replied. He smiled but didn't move any other muscle.

"I have to warn you, I do have a wild imagination."

"Then you won't have any problem to picture Stark and I—"

The doctor cleared his throat behind us, cutting me off. I turned and glared. I am a _god_. You do not interrupt gods. Not when they're talking, not ever.

"Sherlock here needs to think," he informed me.

"I'm sure he can talk while he thinks or I wouldn't have asked for his help. Right, Sherlock? I only choose the best" I commented, turning my head back to the bed. The man chuckled.

"If the conversation is good enough I will talk even while I think."

At that John gaped, utter disbelief and betrayal written all over his face.

"Maybe I'll even think better, doing something almost automatic."

I raised an eyebrow at the comment.

"Our conversations won't be automatic, I assure you that."

"Try me" he dared.

"Oh but then you would win, wouldn't you? A monologue."

"Don't you love those? You like to hear your own voice. You are the second prince; you've always wanted people to listen to you. But with your reputation as a Trickster that wasn't easy, was it?"

I inhaled sharply. All of a sudden Sherlock's deduction abilities weren't so amusing anymore. So I replied with what I knew best, something to make the other man uncomfortable. Create a reaction. The reaction I wanted.

"You can shut my mouth with yours if you are so keen on silence then, my darling." I smiled at the light blush that appeared on his face.

Silence fell between us after that. I smiled smugly and the detective continued with his musings. A couple of minutes later John came back into the room carrying a tray with food and placed it on the table.

I blinked, confused. I hadn't even noticed that he had left the room. He looked at me, an air of resignation tainting his features, and motioned for me to eat.

I raised an eyebrow sceptically and walked towards the table, picking up a toast. I sniffed it and John gave me a bewildered look.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Checking you have not poisoned the food."

"Oh by God's sake. This is not one of your court schemes. Normal people don't poison food. Now eat it or leave it."

Reluctantly I took a bite of the toast. It wasn't bad. I couldn't taste any poison.

"Is it true, then? You and Anthony Stark…?" He started, looking anywhere but me.

"It is. Why, if I may ask?" I didn't mock him this time. I was interested.

"I didn't know you… I mean, I thought you weren’t in a relationship. And that that was why you hit on Sherlock."

"I like to tease, my little soldier. You should know that by now."

I leaned closer to him to prove my point. We were barely inches away. He swallowed and turned his head. I smirked.

Sherlock's little lover opened his mouth to say something, but the detective was faster.

"Shut up, John. I can't think."

He remained silent for a moment, before Sherlock opened his eyes and spoke again.

"Got it."

Both John and I turned to the man, expectation rising off us.


	17. The One Who Saw Him For The First Time

That I could do. Or John. John better. But that… Well, probably Loki could do something with it. I just needed to make sure no one paid too much attention to that while John… Yes, Loki was the best choice. And maybe he could give us a little bit of slack in the process. He could be the distraction. A useful distraction, though. Then it would be my turn. I had to plan this to the detail if I wanted it to work without any flaw. And I wanted that.

Some little tweaks here and there and that was it.

The plan was finished.

It was perfect.

_Of course it is._

"Got it" I said, finally opening my eyes.

I saw both men staring at me expectantly. I cleared my throat to give a dramatic effect.

"Loki, are you completely sure the sceptre and the helmet are in the Tower? There's nowhere else they could be stored, by any chance?" I asked.

"They _could_ be in Asgard" the god answered, after pondering the question for a moment. He looked confused. "If the Allfather has decided they belong in Asgard Thor will have delivered them like the idiotic good son he is."

"Then the first thing we have to discover is where exactly they are. We can't sneak into Avengers HQ if there's nothing there."

"How are we going to do that?" came John's question. "It's not like we can just go and ask."

"Actually, we can" I replied. John cocked his head to the side questioningly. " _We_ can't. Loki can" I explained, pointing at the god.

"Me? I'm not sure presenting myself in front of the Avengers is a wise move."

"It is. If it's done correctly. You have to show you're not a menace. You can push them to tell you the whereabouts of the magical objects once that's in their minds."

"Manipulation" Loki translated.

"It's not if you're really not a threat."

"Sherlock, I'm always a threat. Misery and disaster follow me wherever I go." The god looked resigned, as if it was a simple fact he had accepted long ago.

I dismissed it with a wave of my hand.

"Potential danger. That doesn't count. I'm doomed if it does." I smiled. It wasn't good to have Loki all gloomy. I needed him focused.

"So, you will call first. Announce you are going, that you want to speak to them. Explain yourself. I trust Stark won't have told the rest about your little encounter?"

Loki shook his head.

"No. I told him it was up to him whether to let the Avengers know I had been there or not, but after everything else that had happened he won't."

"As I thought. Manipulation is your area, isn't it?" Loki looked away. "Anyway, I need some days more before making this work. No need to be reckless."

"What information do I have to acquire?" The god asked, looking up.

"Umh, where are your staff and helmet, basically, and see if you can get anything that would help us get them if they are indeed in the building. but you can ask anything you want." He pondered that for a couple of moments. "Oh, and I would really love you if you could get some of Tony's blueprints. Of anything, really. But the suit? Oh my God. Please."

Loki chuckled at that. I don’t know if he was laughing at the petition or at the last expression. Probably both.

"Stark is not one to keep physical records. His ceiling machine, Jarvis, stores everything for him."

I pouted childishly. I wanted those papers.

"And what are we going to do, Sherlock?" John interrupted. I rolled my eyes.

"You and I are going to stay here and wait. Unless Loki lets us listen?" I bated my eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"You can try and place a mic on me, but I will shut it down as soon as I don't want you to hear something. Which will most definitely be really soon."

"Something to hide, Loki?" I asked teasingly, arching an eyebrow at the god.

"Plenty" came the response. Okay, that wasn't the reply I had expected.

"Uh, sketchy."

"Indeed."

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds before I averted my eyes.

"Have you discovered who was the one who told them those dirty little secrets that made the Avengers turn on you so suddenly?" I tried to change the subject.

"Yes. Stark told me. Her name's Amora. She's an Asgardian sorceress. But she can't be working alone, she's not smart enough."

"So we're looking for a partner in crime." I thought for a moment. "It must be human, or at least with knowledge of this planet. If it is human he must be quite impressive, to have a Goddess agree to work with him."

"You are not that impressive and yet here I am" Loki commented.

"That's not true and you know it. I'm the best."

The god looked up and crossed his slender arms.

"I wouldn't be here otherwise, don't you think?"

John suddenly cleared his throat and got up.

"What did this Amora exactly tell the Avengers for then to hate you?" the soldier asked.

"She told them some parts of my life" the god simply stated.

"Well your life span covers several centuries. That doesn't really reduce the possibilities" John kept pushing.

Loki sighed, looking older at once.

"She told them… I am not truly Aesir, just by upbringing. My true heritage is Jotünn." He looked up right into my eyes.

"Ice giants. Right. What else?" John asked, losing his patience.

At that Loki looked at him as if he saw him for the first time. Which was probably what was happening, since the god had never taken the soldier seriously.

"How in the Nine Realms do you know that? Who told you that? Who? Tell me!" He looked frenetic, bewildered. I had never seen the god so decomposed.

"Because of the myths." John furrowed his brow. "Sherlock told me."

At that Loki turned to face me, and within moments he was too close for comfort. The god narrowed his eyes until they were nothing more than two green lines.

"Is that true? Did you told your entertainment about my heritage?"

"I did. Kind of.  I did told him the legends about you and Thor had a pinch of truth to them." Loki widened his eyes to a normal size again, and backed off some centimetres.

"I told you that" he said.

"You did. Don't you know what myths are about you?"

"I know some. I didn't know people knew I am a Frost Giant."

"Oh, they don't. Norse mythology is not a popular hobby, you see." Loki glared at me again.

"And how come it's yours?" the god asked.

I shrugged. I wasn't going to admit I liked the idea of gods. Not as someone who watched over humankind —if there's a god, which I doubt, he doesn't care—, but a someone with almighty power and knowledge.

"It helped me understand the thinking of people. They are not so different from what they were thousands of years ago" I said instead. That was also part of my reasons to like mythology.

"I see. Were you a fan of me, Sherlock?" Loki asked cockily. Such a diva.

"Obviously. You and your ability to cause mischief amazed me." I rolled my eyes, but the god grinned anyway.

"That, and your ability to get pregnant of animals" John laughed. Not for long, though, as Loki turned to glare at him so fast it would have broken a human neck.

"You dare to say one single more word about my children and you will beg death, understood?" John swallowed. The God of Mischief looked deathly serious now, all the arrogance from before vanished. "Understood?" He repeated in a commanding voice.

John could only nod.

"Good. Now, I need to see those legends that include me and my family."

He turned his attention back to me and I couldn't help but to feel a little bit intimidated. Sometimes I forgot Loki was a powerful and dangerous being.

"Sherlock" he called. "Tell me where I can find them."

I breathed deeply to keep my composure.

"Internet?" I answered.

Loki then moved to the desk, where my laptop was resting. He picked it up and walked out of the door.

"Don't bother me in the next couple of days if you appreciate your miserable and futile lives."

"Where are you going?" I inquired.

There was no answer.


	18. Anger, Frustration & Grief

I stormed out of the room, not even deigning to give a reply to Sherlock's question.

I was furious. How could a mere mortal know about me, about my children? I had concealed their story as much as I had been able to. Not even Thor knew it all. Not that that oaf would know if I didn't want him to.

And now, after everything I had done, this weak human _knew_?

I wouldn't allow that.

I had to discover every piece of information available. If Sherlock's lover could, anyone could know.

Some part of me, the most volatile part of me, wished nothing but destruction. I wanted to tear this world apart, turn every and all of its inhabitants to dust. I wanted to let the magic run free, free to destroy and create, kill and reborn, burn and shape this world as it pleased.

After that, when there was nothing but ashes above the Earth, I would stand to look down on the remains of the mortals who dared to be in my way. To _defy_ me.

Other part of me, though, wanted to calm down, and tried really hard.

_Probably it's all wrong and vague, as mythology always is. It will be distorted and twisted, nothing will be true._

_Yet the soldier knew_ , I couldn't help but to think.

_Only you had children. He didn't seem to know anything else._

That actually made me feel slightly better.

By then I had already exited the building and I was wandering aimlessly through the streets. I was too upset as to even care about the Avengers. I was going to go to them anyway. Eventually.

When turning a corner, I saw a coffee shop that advertised free Wi-Fi. I was familiar enough with Midgardian customs as to know what that meant, so I opened the door and walked to wait in the queue.

Ten seconds passed and the line didn't move a single centimetre. I was growing impatient. Another ten seconds and the situation was the same.

I groaned in exasperation as I debated with myself whether to use magic or not. I could use a simple spell.

_But you shouldn't use magic._

_I'm not that close to the hotel, it's safe enough._

_Still._

I rolled my eyes before closing them for a moment and thought of an appropriate spell.

Mind control? Charisma? Time manipulation? Make a coffee appear?

I opted for making my way up to the counter and smiled charmingly to the barista across the desk as I waved my fingers under the counter. Some people threw me what they thought were poisonous glances and some others tried to stop me or yell at me.

Too bad I'm a god. Bad for them, of course. Not for me.

"I want a big caramel coffee. Name's—" I stopped just in time. Wouldn't do good to say my name. "John" I said at last.

The barista looked at me confused for a second before the spell made effect. Then, he smiled like he were a stupid person (which probably was true) and turned to take one of the cups.

I put my hand into my pocket and took out some money I had taken from John's wallet. I didn't even count it, just placed it on the counter and turned to wait for my order.

"Do it quickly" I commanded the girl preparing the drinks. She then stopped doing whatever drink it was what she was preparing and started with mine.

I smiled pleased and by the time I went to the other counter —where the cups were served—, my order was already done.

I took it and seated by the window, where I had a good view of anyone crossing the street.

The computer took ages to switch on, and it had password. I cursed Sherlock inwardly and waved my fingers lightly. I still didn't want to use magic, but right then I didn't care that much.

The screen unlocked and I entered the Web browser. It does sound narcissist, but I searched myself. _Loki_. Four letters and so many results.

The first two ones were from the same website, yet they didn't refer to the same Loki. Apparently there was a character based on the god — _me_ —? Look, there was a Thor too. His arrogance would be unbearable if he ever found out.

There were characters and full comics for the Avengers too. I tsked. What a lack of imagination.

I looked at the clock and I had to look again to make sure I hadn't imagined the time. Half an hour had already passed while I was reading useless information about comic characters.

I had to focus on the actual Loki.

I had to focus on _myself_. One of my specialities.

I clicked on the next link.

It was a whole website dedicated to Norse mythology. The legends were classified by the name of the main character of each one of them. So I obviously chose _Loki_.

At first I read everything carefully, but I soon grew bored and started scrolling down, scanning the text distractedly.

The legends had a pinch of truth to them, but were embellished with fantastic details. That filled me with anger.

Most of what I was reading didn't even include me in reality. I did scheme, why wouldn't I, but it wasn't my fault more than half of what was attributed to me.

I passed some boring passages featuring Thor and his stubbornness in which I may or may not have been involved —although in public I would always deny it—, and stumbled upon what I was looking for.

It was the story of Sleipnir's birth. I read it and felt more and more furious with each paragraph.

After the War with the Vanir, Asgard was left without a wall to protect the Aesir from the Giants.

Now, that was really funny. Since there was already a Frost Giant inside and all that.

I didn't know if in Asgard my heritage was known, but my supposedly evil nature typical of the Giants didn't kill anyone. Almost anyone.

After I had left Asgard I had started to see how broken and damaged that society really is. Odin was no longer the almighty ruler he once was. Sure, he was indeed powerful, but his rule of fear wasn't working anymore.

The other Realms were changing, _evolving_. Not Asgard. It was clinging to the fainting echoes of the Golden Age out of stubbornness and fear of change.

Even the weak humans were developing. The last time I had set foot on Midgard they believed themselves dangerous with their pathetic axes and fragile boats. Now they could stand a chance even against the brutes of Asgard.

_Stop it._

Ugh, I was musing again. I refocused on the text at hand, trying to lighten the anger.

Asgard didn't have a wall. Yes, I already said that. So, a constructor came and promised he could build one in a year in exchange for Frigga, the sun and the moon. No one was going to agree, because they all are that blind to opportunity, but I made them agree if he could do it in half the time, without the help of any man.

He wouldn't be able to do it and we would get half a wall for free.

A horse is not a man, though, and I really should have phrased the conditions better. The stallion helped the Giant —the constructor was a Giant, he wouldn't have been able to do it otherwise—. When the due date was approaching, the wall was almost finished, and all the Aesir blamed me for that. _What, now it's my fault others can do their work better than expected?_

So I turned into a mare and lured Svaldifari out of its work. The constructor didn't finish the wall, everyone discovered he was a Giant and oh look, a Giant, let's kill it. Thor took Mjolnir to a nice chat with the skull of the man and everyone enjoyed the free wall.

No one remembered it had been thanks to me. _As always._

In fact, no one noticed my absence or didn't deem it as important until after I returned some months later. With an eight legged horse.

Do not misunderstand me; Sleipnir is my child and I love him dearly. But his conception was not something I want to remember. Svaldifari forced me and this stupid legend didn't even mention any of it.

I didn't want recognition; I had long passed the point of caring. I just wanted the truth. People to know it. I know how lies and half-truths can blur people's minds.

There were also the myths regarding my other children; Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel. Since their mother was a giantess and their father was, well, _me_ , the Aesir thought they would be mischievous and bring trouble. Besides, there was that little detail of the prophecy. According to it, the three of them would bring death during Ragnarök. Odin and Thor, for example, would die in their hands.

Overly credulous Aesir.

Still, Odin had taken them away from me and tossed them into the darkness. They were just kids; Jörmungandr was barely a toddler when that happened. How could they imprison children for something they may not even do?

Odin kept Sleipnir as his own personal mount. He thought that it would be mercy, when it only reminded me of their kidnapping and my own impotence in front of it.

At least I could see him; that was more than I could say about some of the others.

Jörmungandr was thrown into the Midgardian oceans, unable to come to the surface. He inhabited the depths, where humans had not ventured more than a couple of times, and only when their technology allowed it.

I could not see him, for his presence was cloaked from me. Even being in the same Realm I could not see my long ago stolen child.

I had the pin, though. It wasn't merely decorative; it had magic imbued. The closer I was to Jörmungandr, the hotter it became. Being in Midgard, I always carried it with me.

I had long ago tried to travel across the oceans to find him, but even when I located where he was, he would not know I was above him nor could I go that deep, even with magic.

So in the end it had just been painful, although it had given me a spark of hope.

Hel's fate had been more fortunate, as she was placed as the ruler of Niflheim. Not a position for a teenager as herself, but she had inherited my mind and soon took control over the Realm. I could visit her, albeit seldom.

I took every chance to go to her, but she was a fully grown woman now and didn't need me anymore. I loved her inclination for mischief and sense of humour. It's not something many in Asgard would comprehend.

But the worst of the destinies was placed upon Fenrir. He was bound by a fetter as smooth as silk and as strong as spider web. The dwarves had created it, and I had yet to find a way to break it. According to the myths of the Midgardians, he would be bound until Ragnarök, but I really hoped that wasn't true.

According to the Midgardian myths I was _supposed_ to be bound until Ragnarök too, with a snake dripping venom in my face, so I took comfort in that thought.

_Wonderful._

But that had already happened. And it wasn't a real snake. I guess the intrinsic subtleties of figured speech were of too much complexity to the crude humans roaming the world a thousand years ago.

The venom is a metaphor for grief, anger, frustration.

After Odin took my children away from me, I felt furious. I wanted revenge. I wanted blood and pain and the death of those who had had anything to do with it. Above all, I wanted to see Odin suffer, for he was the head of it.

When I realised I could not have my vengeance just then, I grieved. I grieved for my children, who were alone in unknown worlds. I pitied myself, as much as I hated that.

I rubbed the palm of my hand against my face. I looked outside. It was already night. By then the legends I was finding were repetitive; the same story in different words, so I closed the computer and exited the establishment.

There were still people inside, and the streets were filling with night life. I walked to the hotel; its reception buzzing with passers-by even at this hour in the night.

I crossed the reception and I was about to enter one of the crowded lifts when something caught my eye.

Not a something rather than a someone.

I swallowed and cursed under my breath.

Thor was awkwardly sitting in one of the armchairs, his eyes boring into mine.


	19. Lightnings, Thunders & Storms

I inhaled sharply, eyes widened in shock. Thor didn't move, but I did. It had been reckless of me to go outside without disguise, but I had been too driven by emotions as to even notice.

Now Sherlock was in danger. The Avengers or SHIELD would go to interrogate him, to _make_ him tell where I was. And their means weren’t what most humans would approve of.

I shouldn't have even gone out. I could have just read in the corridor, or the lounge or whatever. But no, I had to go to some really public really exposed coffee shop.

And now Thor had seen me in the hotel. I would have to run _again_. As all the times before.

I squeezed myself into the packed lift and pulsed all the numbers. I checked Thor's presence to locate him. He had started moving, and was now in the third floor. The red numbers inside the box read 7. In the eighth floor I got out and went right back in into one of the other lifts. I waited until the lift came to a halt in one of the middle floors.

I went out and looked both ways to make sure Thor wasn't here. I checked his location again, just to make sure. I gasped and started running. He was close, barely a couple of floors away.

I saw a fire escape at the end of the corridor, but I didn't let hope bloom. Not yet. I wasn't free yet.

I got to the door and reached out to the door knob, but I didn't touch it. A lighting and the following thunder struck across the sky, illuminating the night in a rainless storm. Loud mouthed preposterous bastard. Always with the thunder.

But I knew the warning was clear. _Don't escape_. And as accustomed as I may be to Thor's element, I didn't fancy being stricken by one.

Another thunder and I turned to see Thor standing behind me.

“What makes you think I won't teleport somewhere else?” I asked sharply.

“You haven't already” he simply replied. “And because I would locate you if you did” he added, looking slightly ashamed.

I huffed.

“What do you want, Thor?” I changed the subject not to admit he was right. If he had been able to discover my whereabouts once, he could as well do it again.

“I thought it was you when we were here. I just wanted to make sure. I wanted to see you, brother.”

He took a step forward, but I didn't move. I wasn't showing such weakness.

“Who else knows?”

He blinked in confusion.

“Know what?”

“Don't play fool on me, Thor!” I snarled. “Who else knows where I am?”

“No one. Just me” he stuttered. Then he scratched his nose. He was lying.

“Thor” I warned. “Don't you dare try lying to _me_.”

“The Enchantress. She helped me find you. Only she knows. Not even Man of Iron does.  I haven't told anyone, I swear.”

“And you trust her not to told the Avengers? You are a bigger idiot than I thought” I growled, exasperated, because he _was_ ; he was such an idiot. “You know her, how in the Nine Realms could you ask her for help? Trust her?”

“I do not trust her, brother! But it was the only way! I was not sure you were here and only she could sense your magic” he explained.

I just sighed, because I could do nothing more. I rubbed my temples, thinking. Scheming.

_Don't scheme._

_Do it._

“I missed you too” I said in the end, raising my gaze to meet his.

His face softened and a hopeful spark bloomed in his eyes. Then, too suddenly for me to react, Thor closed the distance between us with three long steps and hugged me tightly in a crushing embrace. I stiffened at the sudden contact, but then I commanded my muscles to relax and lifted my hands to pat his back.

Fortunately, he got the message and let me go.

“Brother, you have to come back” he finally said.

“I won't if you are working with Amora.”

Thor looked upset, but didn't relent. He had always been stubborn.

“The Enchantress is under the protection of SHIELD. I can do nothing to stop her, as much as I would like you to come back.”

“Oh? How is that? Last time I checked, she was being fought by the Avengers.” I raised an eyebrow sceptically, crossing my arms in a proud yet interested manner.

Thor took the chance and words started pouring from his mouth.

“And she was, but she came some weeks ago claiming she had valuable information. She's been helping SHIELD with magic. Here in Midgard magic is not something known. I do not understand it either.” He made a pause and offered me a tentative smile. _Of course he doesn't understand it. He has never showed something other than indifference and disdain towards it_. “She's teaching them how it works. How to recognise it. She came voluntarily, brother.”

“Yes, and that's clearly _not_ a sign of something going on. By the Nine, did you learn nothing from my trying to conquer this pitiful planet?” It was a rhetorical question, of course, but Thor has never been one to understand such subtleties.

“We did learn. I learnt that I shouldn't have shut you down so quickly all those times. I learnt that no matter what, you are still my brother. I learnt so many things, thanks to you.”

_Oh, here we go again with the brotherly love. I think I'm going to cry._

I rolled my eyes at the little speech.

“Thanks to me being tortured and broken, _brother_. It was late, and it was not enough. It does not change the past” I spat the words like venom, fully knowing the effect they would have on the Thunderer.

His face fell immediately, his gaze fixed now on the floor.

“I'm sorry. You know I am. What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness?” the god inquired, voice low and cracked. Even though I was not made of stone, I did not let that get to me.

My carefully placed mask didn't waver one bit. As always. It was always a mask now. I didn't even remember the last time I had been without a mask.

Well, cross that out. _Let's rephrase it._ I didn't even remember the last time I had been without a mask in a situation not involving sex.

Instead of faltering, I answered in an even and calm voice.

“You can start by not getting in my way.”

I stared at the man in front of me, the way a boss looks at a useless subordinate. It created the desired reaction.

Thor seemed to shrink under my gaze.

“Loki” he murmured at last. “Brother, I promise you I will make up for everything I've done to wrong you.”

I said nothing at that. Thor's eyes were glimmering with determination.

“I won't go back, Thor. There's nothing left for me there.” That was not true, but _details_.

“That's what you said about Asgard too.” He was smiling now. “And you've been back after your punishment.”

I had, indeed. But that was not the point.

_Which is the point then?_

_Shut up._

_You simply don't want to admit it._

_What if I don't?_

_Just saying, you should accept you enjoy being with Sherlock and his entertainment._

“I only wanted to visit Sleipnir.” And Frigga, but that would only prove him right.

“Then you do have something left there. And here. Jörmungandr is here, is he not?”

I blinked in surprise, for I did not know Thor would care enough as to know about such a thing.

“But I can't reach him” I explained bitterly, unconsciously touching the tie pin in the figure of a serpent.

“I can help you. I will help you find and free your children, Loki.”

I turned my back to face the window. It was dark outside and the lights from the city created a map of new stars no one bothered to fathom into constellations.

“And will you go against expressed orders from the Allfather?”

“I will.” He didn't even hesitate.

“Well then. You can try, but I doubt you will get anything.” I sighed because I had been thinking about it myself for centuries, without finding any solution.

“Do not underestimate me, brother.”

“Trust me, I don't.”

Silence fell for several minutes. I was mesmerised by the night sky, even though I could barely see a couple of stars with the urban lights. It was beautiful nonetheless.

Thor cleared his throat.

“If you want to come back, or just talk to someone… I am here for you.”

“I don't need to talk, Thor.” I smiled faintly.

“Maybe not now.”

I sighed. So stubborn.

“Will you go now?” he asked. I'm sure he already knew the answer.

“Yes. And no, you may not know where” I answered the unspoken question.

“When will I be able to see you again, then? You can't just drop everything and leave.”

“See Thor, that is kind of what I do” I commented.

“It is not. You always leave a part of yourself behind. You can't let go. Not completely.”

I looked away. When had Thor become so observant? It was annoying. I almost liked him better when he was as dumb as everybody else in Asgard. _Almost_.

“I will be back soon. I actually _do_ have to talk to you. To the Avengers. So worry not, you won't lose me for long.”

I couldn't see his face, but I knew it had lit up like a puppy's. Idiot.

“See you later, Thor” I said, and walked straight past him. I relaxed slightly when he didn't oppose any resistance.

When I was about to turn the corner, the God of Thunder spoke again. Had I been anything else than a god, I would not have heard him.

“What about… What about the man? The one who was with you in the hotel room?”

I stopped but didn't face him. I had avoided mentioning Sherlock and he hadn't acknowledge that he knew I wasn't alone. Until now.

“There was no one, Thor. It was merely an illusion I created to divert your attention.” The lie rolled easily on my tongue, sounding matter–of–factly.

Thor said nothing more and I resumed walking.

I took the lift and went up and down until I heard the characteristic thunder that accompanied the Thunderer's trips. He sure liked to show off.

I pressed the button of the floor where we had the room and I knocked the door. When I had stormed out of it I hadn't taken a key, and I didn't want to use magic leading straight to Sherlock.

John opened the door, and I bit back a comment about him being a servant, always with the door opening. I didn't have the time.

“I don't have long. I have to go” I announced as soon as I was inside.

Sherlock raised his eyes from the book in his lap to look at me expectantly. John just looked irritated.

“Why? What happened? Go where?” The detective quickly asked.

“Thor came. He knows I'm here, so they must be coming for me. I made him believe you were just an illusion, so don't exit the room in a couple of days or so.” I didn't reply to his last question, _where?_ , but I didn't exactly know it myself.

“What about the plan? Do we cancel it?” John interrupted.

I shook my head. No, I had already thought about it. I turned to talk to Sherlock.

“Do you still have the mental comm? I didn't remove it, right?”

“I don't remember you did, no.”

_Capital of Midgard?_

“The Earth doesn't have a capital” he answered, looking through the corner of the eye at his lover, as if expecting a correction.

“I will talk to you through it, then.”

“But I can't talk to you. It will be one sided.” Sherlock commented.

“Dear, you hurt my feelings. I am no third category sorcerer.” What did he believe I was, some cheap trick magician? “It _won't_ be one sided. And even if it were, you could just do as I command.  As you should.”

“You think really highly of yourself, don’t you?” John cut off.

I really, _really_ wanted to ignore him. But my tongue was faster. I walked up to him, invading his personal space, and pinned him with my glare. He visibly shrunk.

“I have reasons to. I am a god, whereas you are only a weak mortal. So, who is superior? _Me_.” I proved my point further towering over him.

“Umh, Loki, sorry to interrupt your lovely competition, but weren’t you trying to escape alive or something?” Sherlock commented, saving his entertainment. “Where are you going to go?”

“I do not know. Probably I'll call some of my contacts in this Realm. I've made quite a few of acquaintances throughout the centuries.” I made a pause, running mentally through some of the list's top names. “Do not worry, Sherlock. I can take care of myself.”

I smiled reassuringly at the man and then at the doctor. The plan was still standing. Some inconveniences wouldn't ruin it.

“Well then, goodbye, mortals.”

“Loki” Sherlock called. “When will you be back?”

Geez, what was with that precise question? Everybody seemed to be making it.

“I don't know. We'll have to see how the reunion with the Avengers goes.”

I looked one last time at the curly haired human before exiting the impersonal hotel room again.

I hurried to the lift and pressed the button to the lounge. It was where most people were, so the readings would be more chaotic there. I grinned at that.

While the box went down, I moved my hands and fingers frantically in a cloaking spell. It would make it harder for anyone who tried to pick up the traces of my magic.

I stepped into the packed reception and made sure the Avengers hadn't arrived there yet. Then I closed my eyes and thought of the place where I wanted to go.

If I remembered correctly, he lived in London, much like Sherlock.

Hoping to get it right, I aimed for the home of one of the most volatile and intelligent criminals of the world.


	20. The One Who Shone Brighter Than The Sun

The first thing John did as soon as the god had left the room in a hurry was smile. He hid it immediately, of course, because he knew I would be bothered by that. But it was there, nevertheless.

Then he turned to me and tried and failed to look upset.

“So that means he won't be here with us anymore?” he asked, apparently innocent.

I squinted momentarily.

“It seems so, yes.” _At least for some time._

“So” he started, taking some steps closer to me. “We don't have to put up with him anymore, do we? He is now gone. I'm not entirely sure he is going to contact us again. He is the God of Mischief and Trickery, after all” he commented.

I rolled my eyes.

“Up until now he hasn't lied to me once. So I'm counting he isn't now either.”

John scowled at that but didn't add anything. He was so silent lately. Always keeping for himself what he thought. I didn't like having to deduce him.

Other people, yes, it was fun. Even if they didn't like it. _Especially_ when they didn't like it. It gave me an insight into their lives, into their fears and hopes and expectations and plans. I could see through them. And I _liked_ it. I liked to feel the power that gave me; to be able to know anything and everything if I wanted to.

I could know unspoken secrets and untold truths, things seen and things their owners preferred they hadn't seen.

But John… It felt like invading his privacy. It was, actually. But I didn't want to invade his.

I wanted him to offer it to me.

That didn't seem like the case, though.

“Aren't you even a little relieved you don't have to worry about him anymore?” John poked.

“No. I'm bored, John, not relieved.” _And worried about him._ “At least we are still getting to the bottom of this.”

I looked at him hopefully, waiting for a response. Any kind of response.

My favourite doctor smiled slyly and came closer to where I was sitting, the now abandoned book still in my lap. When he leaned over me his scent reached me and I couldn't help but to breathe in deeply.

This scent means home.

_John_ means home. Wherever I am, _we_ are.

“But he has just left.” John's voice, low and husky, brought me back from my reverie. He was speaking in my ear now. I didn't need daydreaming if I had that. “That Norse god won't be contacting us so soon, will he?”

He backed off, just enough to look at me in the eye. I swallowed and parted my lips unconsciously when he darted the tip of his tongue to lick it slowly.

I was painfully aware of everything happening in front of and around me. Of all the little responses my body was creating. I was leaning forward just so slightly. My lips had parted and my breath quickened. I felt a familiar twitch in my groin as blood started to pump downwards.

My pupils were probably dilated, judging by the amount of light I could perceive now. But all I could see was the man in front of me, who seemed to swallow all the light around him so he would be the brightest thing in the room. The glimmer of the night stand lamp conferred his features a mysterious look, the shadows and the light playing with every curve and angle of his face.

It was beautiful.

He seemed to be shining brighter than the sun.

But he was moving too slowly. I am not a man of patience. With a swift move, I closed the distance between us and I kissed him. I pushed my tongue inside his mouth to taste him; to be closer to him, if that was even possible.

John took the book and placed it aside; then kneeled on the armchair so he was straddling me. He rested his hands on my shoulders to keep balance, but soon moved them and used his elbows instead.

I ran my hands through his back, feeling the muscles shift beneath the fabric and skin, delighting in the sound the clothes made when rubbed against him.

John pressed closer to me, and suddenly a new wave of his scent hit me, now mixed with the dark smell of lust and sex. I breathed in frantically. I couldn't get enough of it.

He pulled back to breathe and rested his forehead on mine. His pupils had eaten almost all the iris, giving him a mystic air.

I passed my fingers across his jawline, feeling the stubble scratch my fingertips. I moved them up and down his face, relishing in the look on his face as he closed his eyes and gasped lightly.

I moved them further down to his neck and collarbone, still caressing the skin beneath my own in a feathery touch. I saw him swallow, his Adam's apple moving up and down as he did so. Instinctively, he cocked his head to the side and backwards, and that's when I leaned forward and planted a soft wet kiss where the neck joins with the shoulder. I stilled and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

John lifted his hands and pulled at the back of my shirt to untuck it and pushed his hands underneath.

“We can take our time” I whispered into his neck, not even sure he heard me.

“We _can_. I don't want to. I won't.” Apparently he had heard me after all.

“Spoilsport” I pouted and pulled back to kiss him again.

Two could play at this game.

If John didn't want to go slow and nice and romantic, then it would not be it. I wasn't going to be the one denying his wishes. But I wouldn't give up so easily either.

“I want to, though” I protested when he finished the kiss.

John kissed me passionately as his hands ran through my back and moved to my sides and eventually my chest. Once they were there he pushed me against the back of the armchair and pressed closely to my body.

He started to strip me, first unbuttoning my shirt while kissing me in an almost desperate manner, and then unzipping my pants with a swift move.

I took his wrists and lead his hands towards my chest, in an attempt to slow down. I grinned and kissed the corner of his mouth and continued to the left until I reached his ear. I nibbled at the soft flesh there and smiled, pleased by the moan that drew out of him. I trailed down, alternating between nuzzling and kissing and sucking at that beautiful skin, breathing him in and feeling goosebumps appear on his arms.

John ground his hips against mine, making my crotch twitch painfully in the strain of the pants. He repeated the motion, rolling his hips oh so pleasurably. I hissed and he chuckled. Then again, he started rubbing against my pants. I could feel his erection through the fabric, as well as the demands of mine.

Okay, _maybe_ he wins. Let's do it now.

Except that, I win too. He was not the only one to enjoy this. Oh, I was enjoying this quite a lot.

I lifted my hands without stopping kissing him and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. I was trying to concentrate on both things but the multitasking was rather annoying, so I ended up pulling back to be able to look at what I was doing with my fingers.

John smiled and reached down to remove my pants. He had already unzipped them so it only took a pull to discard them, and another to free my straining cock.

By then I had already managed to get rid of his shirt and he was removing his own pants, so I resumed kissing him, trailing down to tease a nipple to hardness and then sucking the other to do the same. The moans and whimpers coming out of John's mouth sounded faint and distant, as it usually happens during sex, but were nonetheless there, and I started whispering sweet nothings into his skin, between wet kiss and wet kiss. He responded by increasing the volume of his moans.

I reached down to grab both of our cocks and started to masturbate them at the same time. To the friction of the hand you had to add the friction against each other, so the sensation was pure ecstasy. I let out a whimper as John wrapped his hands around my neck for support.

I tilted my head backwards and he bit softly the skin of my neck. I remembered the hickey he had left there the last time and how I had had to cover it with my scarf. I grunted and felt rather than see the smug smile on his face.

I quickened the movement of my hand and placed the free one on the lower back of John, digging my fingers into the flesh. He whimpered and bit rougher. His hands went up to tangle themselves with my hair and pulled to the side. I complied and tilted my head, giving him better access to my exposed neck.

I felt a familiar pressure building up in my balls as the orgasm to come created itself, and oh god if I only needed one last push over the edge.

John came loudly, spilling into my hand and letting go of my neck to scream my name and continue with nonsensical gibberish.

His screams were what I needed. Some strokes later, I came too, not caring at all about the mess or what the other hotel rooms might think.

For a blissful moment there was only pleasure in the world. Well, pleasure and that distinctive scent of John, now mixed with sex and sweat, but still as irresistible as always.

I closed my eyes, letting the rolls of elation wash over me, and when the immediate effects of the orgasm had left me I felt my body go limp.

My hand was sticky and John's body was on top of me, hot and sweaty. I couldn't care less. I kissed his forehead and breathed deeply, trying to get rid of that stupid sensation.

I couldn't help but to feel something in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, but it was there nevertheless. A part of myself, a part not completely dumbed down by the recent orgasm was trying and failing to warn the rest of me about _something_. I mentally tsked and shut it down, preparing for unconsciousness to take control.

I was in that intermediate land between sleep and consciousness when John got up, leaving me suddenly vulnerable and cold without his body heat.

I shivered but refused to wake up. He then cupped my cheek and placed gentle kisses on my jaw and neck. I whined and partly opened an eye. I let him continue for some moments more before moving to stretch and get up.

“What time is it?” I asked, my voice thick.

“Four in the morning. You've been asleep for merely half an hour.”

I mumbled something even I didn't understand.

“Go to the bed Sherlock. Let's go to sleep.” John's voice was soft and so convincing. The armchair was uncomfortable and its springs were digging into my body. Not good to sleep on in at all.

I let him drag me to the promised bed and curled up against him as soon as he was in too.

“Sherlock” he called. “Do you think the Avengers or SHIELD will come for us? For helping Loki?”

“Loki's not here” I merely said. _He has a point, listen to him_ , said an awake part of me. I didn't even tell him to shut up. He just did.

“I know, but still. Tomorrow morning we'll leave for London. I don't think we'll be seeing that god again.”

“Okay, whatever. Just shut the fuck up now.”

He kissed my cheek tenderly and pressed his body against mine. So hot.

Before I slipped into the darkness, a foreign sense of emptiness filled me.


	21. Evil, Criminal & Mastermind

I landed swiftly on a familiar sight. The quiet streets of London at these hours were lit by the lampposts located at regular intervals. Some humans wandered, most of them drunk or coming from a party. Or going to one. I didn't exactly care.

I breathed in, smelling the damp air and cold. I hadn't teleported where I wanted, but I had only been there once, so I hoped I was close enough.

I turned on my heels, letting my nose guide me through the streets and alleyways.

Some meters later I turned a corner and found the building I was looking for. Modern and practical. Without embroidery. A lot of glass and black metal, shiny and reflective.

I walked up to the entrance and sniffed at the bell, searching for a trace of smell. There was nothing from him, as it was obvious. He lived there, he would have a key.

I did pick up the scent of that other man he was with the last time. What was his name? It didn't matter. I pressed the button of the bell.

“Oh, look who has decided to pay a visit” said a singsong voice at the other end.

“It has been a long time by your mortal standards.”

“Just a couple of years. I've kept myself busy.” The man laughed. Private joke? Just madness? If you doubted my mental health you should go check this psychopath. “But how rude of me to leave you waiting outside in the cold. Come, please.”

I opened the door and got into the lift. Floor 12. An annoying nonsensical melody could be heard inside.

I tsked and went outside, where a stripe of light poured from a half open door.

Always with the dramatic effect.

The door didn't make a sound when I stepped inside. I almost expected it to creak or something.

“Welcome to my lair, dear _Loki of Asgard_.”

The short man in front of me said the last part mockingly.

“I see you do know about my sentence.”

“Well, a sorry excuse for a sentence in my opinion, but since no one asked.”

He pouted childishly and I rolled my eyes.

“I won't deny that. But I won't complain either. Let's say I have means to get what I want.”

“Don't we all?”

“You and I, James, are quite special. Not even most Aesir possess your… qualities” I flattered. It always comes in handy to play a little demagogical.

“Stop it, you're going to make me blush.” He grinned. “And it's Jim. Jim Moriarty.”

“I know. You've told me countless times. I just find it fun to call you James. It irks you. “

He made a mocking expression.

“So, what does bring the almighty god here?” Moriarty asked. Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back to me and headed to the kitchen.

I tried to look baffled and a little hurt by the question. Then I realised he couldn't see me.

“Can't I just want to visit a criminal partner in his _lair_?” I asked, looking around. I went to the living room and sat down on the sofa, placing my feet up and occupying most of it with my legs.

I took my shoes off first, _obviously_.

“Well, you can. But I do not believe that's the reason for this, is it?”

Jim entered the room carrying a tray with two cups of tea and sugar. He placed it on the table in front of me and took the seat across.

“What is it, then? Why are you here?” He made a pause and blinked twice. “Oh, don't tell me! I know! You have finally grown bored of being boring. You want us to be partners in crime again.”

“Not going to happen. I've told you before, James, I do not wish to conquer this Realm. Most mortals are weak and boring.” _Most are._ Frankly it was everybody minus a couple of individuals, but he didn't have to know that. Let little Jim think he was special in the eyes of a god.

“And you've come here for something to entertain yourself with? You should have called; I could have planned something fun. Murder, blackmail, conspiracy, you know. But I won't let you have fun if you keep calling me James.”

“I know. But that's not why I'm here. I need to stay off the radar for a while.”

“Whose radar are we talking about exactly? I can possibly eliminate them” Jim inquired, leaning slightly forward.

I churned in my seat. I should be careful with what I told him. Not ideal to have this maniac psycho know too much. He was powerful amongst his kind.

“SHIELD” I simply said at last. That was not a lie. Avengers was independent but still it had strong connections with the organisation.

And they were most definitely looking for me too, anyway. Even though they lacked Stark's technology.

“I see. Back to mischief, I suppose?”

“No, actually. I'm trying not to do evil.” I answered.

“Just _mischievous_. That's what I heard. You are becoming boring. Ordinary. You're no fun anymore” Jim complained childishly.

“I'll be fun if I can stay” I proposed. He was too bored as to turn down such an offer. “Maybe I’ll even overstep mischievous. Who knows?”

At that he lit up like I had flipped a switch.

“You know it has a price.”

“I do. So, what can I pay you with this time?”

He leaned forward to the edge of the chair, sipping his cup of tea while eyeing me carefully.

“Tell me a story. Amuse me.”

“A story? What kind, if I may ask?” I was already running mentally through some anecdotes from back in Asgard or Alfheim. From the _golden times_.

“I don't know. I just want to test that Silvertongue of yours. What have you been up to lately? Tell me.”

There it was what he really wanted. Information. No old times then. He wanted to hear about the Avengers; about Stark; about Sherlock.

I wasn't giving him more than strictly necessary. Not too little so he wouldn't think I was keeping things to myself but not too much either. Information is the most powerful weapon in the universe. It can bend and shape the identity of people, twist them into unknown personalities. It is the cause of the rise and fall of empires, the coin in court schemes and revolutions.

I licked my lips as I thought for a couple of seconds how to start. The start was probably the most important part of any tale. It hooked the listener and decided whether or not they would keep paying attention.

“The Allfather has a rather biased opinion of justice. In Asgard, _he_ is justice. His word law and his is the power to decide upon the lives of all of us. He is the King, after all. So when he judged me and banished me to this Realm, I did not know why he had chosen that fate for me. Because he does not disclose his motives to anyone. He could have chosen to lock me up in a cell in Asgard for an unlimited period of time. Or torture me beyond recognisable, break me down like a clock, tear me apart until I begged death. But he didn't. He chose Midgard to teach me a lesson: even the ones I had deemed so insignificant had a life, even though futile. They burn like—”

“That's boring. You're making me want to kill myself” Moriarty prompted.

I narrowed my eyes but reminded myself to relax. He was a handbook psychopath; it wasn't a good idea to displease him. His mood swings could hit from anywhere.

And I was his _guest_ , or at least that's why I was here, to persuade him to let me stay.

So I relaxed and smiled.

“What is so boring about the story of a dark part of my life?” I asked.

“You _lost_. I am only interested in the sorry of winners.” Moriarty smiled smugly. “Speaking of which, I'd rather hear how you won Anthony Stark's heart. Or his body, at least” he added after a second.

Alright, I was shocked that he knew that. But of course I wasn't showing any visible reaction.

“Oh, so you've heard about that. Then you must also know I do not claim possession of him anymore” I lied.

My relationship with Stark wasn't easy, neither now nor ever, but I wasn't giving up that delicious body for some stupid woman to have.

Or, given Stark's lifestyle before his personal assistant Pepper Potts and I happened, a different person each night. Not necessarily all women.

So I was just trying to find out how much he actually knew.

He blinked a couple of times before answering.

“That is news for me. I should punish my informer next time. Maybe I'll kill him.”

Jim watched me, scanning for any reaction to his careless words.

“If you are waiting for me to try to stop you, you are really mistaken about me, dear” I replied naturally.

It wasn't even a lie. What he did was not of my concern, and least if it only involved humans I didn't know.

Mortals die every day.

“So you haven't turned to the good side yet? What a shame, I felt like destroying someone.”

“James, I am a god. Even if you are truly and extraordinary specimen, you are just a human. Mortal and incredibly weak compared to me. My death is way beyond your reach” I stated, not completely believing it myself. Actually, I did not know the full extent of what he could do. But I wasn’t afraid of him whatsoever.

“That would only make it more challenging. And I so very love challenges. Makes life less boring.”

I was going to answer when his phone started ringing. It had a tune that sang: _you’re the light in my deepest, darkest hour, you’re my saviour when I fall._ I could hear that whole part because he picked it up and froze when he saw the caller's name.

Some seconds later his whole demeanour changed. His gaze softened, acquiring a kindness I had never seen on him. His posture relaxed, the aura around him that screamed _evil criminal mastermind_ disappeared.

His personality, his whole _identity_ seemed to have changed radically in a fraction of second.

He finally got up and excused himself; his voice much softer and ordinary.  Not a single trace of that unconscious threatening and condescending tone in it.

I could still hear him, even if he went to another room. There was no use, I would be able to hear him even if he were in the next floor.

And the man talking didn't sound like Jim Moriarty at all.

“Hi” he greeted.

“Hello, James” said a sweet female voice on the other end. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Molly.” His voice sounded cracked. He was so obviously lying.

“Jim.”

“It's OK. He's here, but he hasn't done anything.” Even from where I was I could hear the unspoken _yet_ at the end.

_He? Who is James referring to with_ he _? Is it me, or there's someone else in the apartment?_

I quickly scanned the whole floor for forms of life that could count as _he_ , or any form of life at all. Nothing.

_Who was Moriarty referring to, then?_

“Are you alright? He hasn't hurt you, has he?” asked the concerned voice.

“No he hasn't. You know he doesn't do that. Don't worry Molly.”

“James, what are you doing now? I'll go over there, give me twenty minutes.”

“No!” Moriarty shouted suddenly. It wasn't the kind of scream I was used to from him. It was almost _desperate_. “He has someone here. A guest. Don't come. Please. I'll handle this. I'll call you later. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.”

After that she hung up, but Moriarty didn't return until some minutes later.

I was craving for information now. So, who is _he_? What had just happened to Jim? Was he acting? Was he not?

When he came back, he was still his other rather dull self.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about, James?” I wanted to know.

He looked up at me, momentarily confused.

“Uh… what did you want again? Sorry, I lost track.”

Okay. Spooky. Way spookier than normal criminal psycho Jim Moriarty. At least I knew what to expect from that one… more or less. This was completely new. A total stranger in the skin of an evil genius. A new born I had to know all over again.

But this wasn't the first time to happen, or that Molly woman wouldn't have known who this new version of Jim Moriarty was.

Maybe a double life? Was he really that bored? Had a part of him settled or it was just a part of one of his plans? Was that female the victim or someone to reach them?

But what really struck me and convinced me that the man in front of me was no longer Moriarty was the fact that he didn't correct me when I called him James.

Jim Moriarty _always_ corrected me when I called him James.

So I chose to play innocent and ignorant.

“I just want to stay for a while. I have nowhere to go” That dramatic touch wouldn't have worked with Jim in a million years. Time to bet.

James — _this man_ was James and the evil one Jim, as far as I was concerned— looked down and then up, debating with himself. He lowered his gaze to rest on something behind me. He bit his lips indecisively and swallowed. After sighing and running a hand through his hair, it seemed like he had made up his mind.

“You can stay. But no killing or blackmailing or torturing or anything while you are here. Or I'll kick you out” James agreed.

I grinned and nodded, but didn't say a thing. I was too busy trying to figure out what had happened to him, who was this Molly. If she were just part of a game he would have reverted to his usual self after hanging up the telephone.

It had to be something else.

And I was determined to unravel the mystery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a spin off based off the characters presented in this chapter. The when is the great question. Probably when I have this fic already written or something.


	22. The One Who Hides Bombs

John woke me up at the crack of dawn. At least that's what it felt like, even though according to the clock it was past noon. That clock had to be wrong.

While I was still mumbling incoherence and complaining about the light pouring through the windows, John hurried and got dressed.

“Sherlock, get up! We have to leave before one o'clock or they'll charge us another day.”

I reluctantly opened one eye and watched John.

“We have to stay” I babbled, still half asleep.

“We agreed yesterday we would leave today morning. So move!”

John tried to shoo me away of the bed, unsuccessfully. I just rolled to the other side, wrapping myself tighter in the blanket.

“When exactly did I say that?”

I didn't quite remember when, even though I had an approximate idea.

“Just before you fell asleep. When I carried you to the bed.”

I rolled my eyes figuratively. I still had them closed, after all. Sleep was slowly slipping out of me. I didn't like it.

“Do you really take my word from when I was about to fall asleep and just wanted you to shut up? I would have agreed to anything in that moment.” I didn't mean to say those words as harsh as they turned out to be.

“How would I know that? You said yes so, serious or not, now there's no turning back.” When I turned to face him I saw he was in soldier mode. “Get up and prepare, Sherlock.”

“I'm staying. You can go” I said, sprawling on the bed and stretching like a cat. I wasn't going anywhere.

Actually, it was his fault for taking as valid a conversation I didn't fully remember maintaining. It was post coital, and I was sleepy. Definitely not paying attention.

“Don't be such a child, Sherlock. You'll have to get up eventually.”

By then I was almost fully awake, but I didn't want to get out of bed yet.

“Eventually” I replied.

I opened my eyes and stared at him unblinkingly. He rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. Then he turned back and headed for the door.

“I'll go have breakfast. By the time I come back I want you up and dressed” he ordered, pointing at me with his finger.

“Exactly the contrary of what I wanted to hear.”

_I want you down and undressed. Oh yes that would be great._

John just looked frustrated again and exited the room.

I thought about going back to sleep, but the silence in the room was eerie. It shouldn't be; it was a perfectly normal hotel room, but still, now that there was no one there but me, it was weird.

Like a glass. The silence was like a glass. Something that looked common but when you actually thought about it, wasn't. Glass wasn't common. It was sand merged and blended through heat into transparent shapes.

Ugh. I was musing. Again.

So I got up, feeling a something I couldn't quite pinpoint in my gut, and sat on the bed with my legs crossed, the blanket still around me.

I recalled the conversation I just had with John, because when I had had it I hadn't been really paying attention. Not that it wasn't something I don't usually do, but still.

So, he had said something about leaving? Leave to go where? Back to London? What about the case? I hadn't helped Loki yet.

I wasn't leaving an unresolved case. That would be like admitting defeat. And I had never done that before. I was definitely not starting now.

My stomach grumbled and I looked at it as it did so. I slowly got up and searched in the closet for something to wear. John would be angry if I went down to have breakfast only wearing the sheet, even though the first time he had been amused.

I took some minutes more to finish preparing myself and exited the room, going for the lift to carry me to John Watson.

I found him sitting at a table in the hotel's restaurant, sipping at his tea while he read the newspaper with a frown.

I approached him and sat down in front of him. There was a plate with toasts, untouched, on the table.

He was purposely ignoring me, and didn't really want to eat. That meant he was bothered by something. Probably John had been waiting for me to come down.

I picked up one of the toasts and started fiddling with the borders. None of us said a thing for some minutes, but he wasn't even reading the newspaper; his eyes were fixed on a spot and hadn't moved for some time.

I kept studying him, watching his little movements and quirks. I didn't have many moments to do so, watch him without being interrupted. I couldn't do it for long, though. I would start _knowing_ things and I promised myself not to do that to him. Unless I _had_ to.

Some minutes later, he finally finished his cup of tea and placed it on the table, making a little bit more noise than strictly necessary. Then he raised his gaze to look at me while clearing his throat.

“We're not leaving” I stated before he could say anything.

“We are. Today. Don't you want to go back home?” he asked.

“I do. But there hasn't been anything mildly interesting going on there lately. Unlike here.”

“You can continue with this in London” John pushed.

“John, you know I can't do that. _Here_ is where everything is. All the information, all the characters. This is the core of the case.”

“But Loki is not even here! Are you sure he even wants to keep on with this?”

“I am fairly sure” I replied, almost cutting him off.

“He just fled. He can't just come back. People don't run for nothing, Sherlock. You of anyone should know.” After that he stared at me accusingly.

“I know.” He was definitely _not_ making me feel guilty. For what? Saving his life? So I pinned him down with my own glare, successfully making him back off a little.

“Then you must know how it feels knowing you can't go back. He won't come back, Sherlock. Loki's gone for good” John explained, his words not sounding as bitter as they should, given their meaning.

“And what if he is? I will solve this on my own. You can go back to London if you want to, I'm staying” I declared.

“Do what you want. In the end you will always regain your senses.”

That said, John went back to staring at the newspaper without actually reading it. He could as well not waste the time and _read_ it. Such an idiot.

I got up, pulling the chair backwards with a creak on the floor.

“I'm really glad you think that about me. Maybe you're even right. I guess I'll have to _regain my senses_ first to see.”

Then I left the restaurant, trying to look as composed and cool as I could.

And then _I_ was the prick.

I went back to the room sulking all the way. Why was John so irascible lately? Anything I said or did was enough to wind him up. He should relax a little bit. Why was he even behaving like that? Was he worried about something? Loki, perhaps? No, this started happening before the god appeared. He had just magnify something already existent.

_But when had it exactly started?_

I couldn't remember a clear day, some day that his behaviour changed suddenly. It had happened gradually, slowly, and I hadn't even noticed it. I mentally slapped myself. How could I have not noticed? All the signs were there.

I didn't even know yet signs for what, but still. It hurt my ego.

I should apologise. Ask him what's been bothering him, why has he been acting that way. Clear things up. I should do that.

Probably he will would me. We're a couple; we're supposed to trust each other. If John can't rely on me to tell me what's happening inside that little grey head of his I don't know where we're going. Maybe to a dead end. Someday everything that he's refused to tell me and everything I haven't said will explode in our faces.

Hiding a bomb doesn't make it disappear, it just makes you forget when it's going to go off.

I will deactivate that bomb before it explodes. Now it's as a good time as any other.

_Maybe that was what he was referring to with regain my senses?_ Realise that he's been acting weird? Anyway, I'm staying. One thing is to want to make up with John and another is let go such a fantastic case.

That's not happening.

But I want to know what's bugging him. So when he comes back up I'll be prepared and I'll ask him to explain.

Yes, I will do that.

I swallowed and started thinking of what would I tell him. I needed something to start with. Or should I go directly? Directly was faster, but also blunt.

I was sat there on the chair for a long time, staring at the nothingness. Thinking.

So, when John came back, I would first ask him if everything was alright. If there's something he wants to tell me. If he said yes, which I didn't expect to happen, knowing John's pride, I would listen and think of ways of solving that and to make the situation better.

If he said no, I would push just a little bit more. I didn't yet know if in the line of _if there's anything that's bothering you I'm here to listen_ or _I know there's something do you'd better just tell me._ Both were compelling but the first one was less likely of me and maybe John would suspect. The second one, though, was more threatening and that's not usually an appropriate approach in these matters.

I would have to see how the conversation went.

Then, once he would have told me, I would say some calming words of reconciliation and then state that I was not leaving New York just yet. If he didn't tell me at all, well, I would say that I am staying anyway.

I don't know how much time later, I heard a knock on the door. I got up, thinking it would be John. But as I was holding the doorknob I knew there was something different. John had a key and wouldn't knock.

But it was already too late, the door was opened and it wasn't John the one outside. It was a woman, the redhead from the time the Avengers had visited, and another man, shorter than her.

Before I had the chance to react at all, she gave me a look up and down and took a step towards me, invading my personal space. She sniffed and turned her head to the shorter man behind her.

“He's real.”

He nodded and produced a syringe from one of his pockets. This didn't look good.

“Wha—” I started to say, and tried to retreat into the room, but I was cut off by a swift move from the redhead.

I felt a sharp pain in the neck and some moments later everything went dark.


	23. Jigsaw Puzzles, Half Lies & Bending Truths

A week and a half had passed since I left New York. I had only tried to contact Sherlock once, but due to time zones he was probably asleep and didn't receive my message. Some days of holiday would do him good. His entertainment looked rather tense. Or maybe he was just that way. Boring.

Oh no. I was saying things Moriarty would say. That wasn't good. Clearly I was spending too much time with him.

Actually, I wasn't spending that much time with Jim as I did with _James_. Alright, here's the thing: Jim is the evil mastermind we all know and try to love and James is the boring, kind Midgardian. He has two personalities? I knew in Midgard there are all kinds of mental illnesses and disorders, many more than the ones that are known in Asgard, but I didn't believe that having multiple personalities could be one of them.

In Asgard everyone who wasn't as the others was thrown into the asylum, so they were hidden, renegades.

I hadn't confronted Moriarty about it yet, but I was planning on doing so. I wanted to know exactly what happened. I'm just too nosey, my bad.

Sometimes, when it was James who was in control, a woman would appear and they would go out for some hours. She looked as human as him. At those occasions, he would tell me he would be out for a while, and not to do anything bad. _Bad_. As if I were a dog.

At first he looked rather tense around me, given that I was in his home and he didn't —consciously? Personally? Whatever the correct term is— know me. But after the first week passed he realised I wasn't going to do anything he would disapprove of, so he was visibly more relaxed. I didn't quite know if he was too naïve for trusting a stranger in a week or had good instincts. Well, he did know me, but he didn't. Jim did. Not James.

This was a real jigsaw puzzle.

Other times, it was Jim who was in charge. You could see the difference the very same second you laid eyes upon him. The facial expression, the warning the mortals would probably receive at his presence, like a tiger's, the clothes. Even if it was the easiest way to differentiate them, by their clothes, it wasn't what jumped to the eye. Jim wore classy suits and expensive shoes, while James dressed more comfortably, with t-shirts and jeans, mostly. Sometimes he swapped personalities midday, so you could see the faces with the wrong clothes to them. Even if technically it was the same face.

When Moriarty was Jim, he usually entertained himself with different tasks, such as helping boring mortals commit various crimes and manipulate apparently random data in the stock market and government to accomplish his many plots.

This morning it was James. That was convenient; he wasn't as cunning and astute as his counterpart. He was more likely to explain this little mystery I had laid my hands onto.

He had come back from one of his escapades with that sweet looking girl, Molly I think it was her name, half an hour ago. He had gone straight to the kitchen and started to make some tea after asking me if I wanted any. I said I'd love a cup and he prepared himself another.

Empathy was the first step to conviction. Relating to the person asking the questions helped you answer.

I went to the living room and took a seat on the corner of the sofa, where I could watch James wherever he went around the room.

He came back and placed the tray on the table.

Some seconds passed in silence. He was nervous, shifting in his seat as if it were made of nails.

“I” he started, but paused and tried again. “I believe we haven't been properly introduced. My name's James.”

I quickly decided to play dumb and see what he told me on his own.

“I do know you. Moriarty. Jim Moriarty. The famous criminal. You're a genius, I may say.”

Actually he hadn't explained anything to me, but it was just too obvious the Jim and James issue. I only summed two and two.

“Yeah, well. About that.” James scratched his nape distractedly. “I am not him. I am,” he added, seeing my puzzled expression,” but at the same time I am not. It's complicated.”

“I believe I can understand” I encouraged, speaking softly.

He looked at me hopefully, then up at the ceiling, as it contained the answers to everything in the universe.

“There's this thing with my brain, it's… difficult to explain. A lot of technical terms. But in short there's this other man, he's me but isn't. He's the one you know. Jim Moriarty. The Napoleon of crime, some call him. I don't even remember which one of us was first; he's always been just there, at the back of my mind, waiting for me to lose.” He took a deep breath, thinking of the best way to continue.

“Oh” I simply said. I was still playing fool, but on the inside I was picking up every piece of information he gave me. “So you're not really Jim.” I tried to look concerned. “Is there any way of knowing who is in charge at a given moment?”

He furrowed his brow.

“I think the difference is pretty obvious? But he is, first of all, evil. There's a something to him, I don't know how to explain it.”

“I understand; I've met him, remember?” I offered a tentative smile, and James returned it. “So, how do I call you? Because I don't think you would like to be called Jim.”

“James” he simply replied. This man was definitely so very different from the Moriarty I was used to. Jim hated me calling him James, whereas this one chose that name. Maybe James was exactly the reason for Jim’s hatred for the calling?

He didn't mention he had already introduced at the start of our conversation either. Polite as ever, some things never changed.

“Alright, James. A pleasure to meet you. Again?” I arched and eyebrow and he chuckled. It was a lively sound.

Silence then fell for some minutes, while we both took our tea. I was pondering at the new information I had. Now I could contrast my theories with what James had just told me. I could also unravel what parts of Moriarty's personality the both characters shared and what changed.

_Find out who James Moriarty is_. I already knew Jim Moriarty enough. This new face was the one I was interested in.

The sudden clattering of the teacup on the table made me look at him.

“If I may ask, what do you know Jim of?” There was genuine curiosity there, as well as a pinch of caution.

“You don't share memories? Being in the same body and all that.”

I was trying to avoid the question with inquiries of my own, and he followed. James shook his head.

“When he's here, it's like I am in a dream. Everything is blurry, like I am seeing through muddy water. I don't usually remember anything clearly, sorry.”

“You don't have to apologise. I was just curious.”

Pulling off all this kindness and gentleness facade was really exhausting. Being good is such an effort.

“I do know he does a lot of despicable things. Sometimes it even reaches the news. If he's careless enough.”

“Which doesn't usually happen to Jim” I commented.

“You seem to know him quite well.” He looked at me, his eyes focused on me in an intense state. “Please, tell me about him. When did you meet?”

There was no avoiding the question anymore, so next step. Half lies and bending truths.

“I… used to work with him. I was rock-bottom, wanted revenge, all that typical topic. I wasn't familiar with this—” Here I made an imperceptible pause to correct myself. “ _Country_ , and he helped me. He was truly bored at the time, so it was easy to convince him to conspire with me.”

The disappointed and horrified looks kept appearing on his face, and spoke volumes, so I decided to stop talking for a moment to make a note.

“I am not like that anymore, I assure you that. It was a dark part of my past. And even back there I did not murder for pleasure” I explained.

“But still you killed.”

“I won't deny it.” He didn't know how many exactly nor he needed to know. I didn't know the _exact_ number myself. I lost count somewhere around the last war Asgard was involved in. “It is my past, and denying it won’t make it disappear. But this last year I've been amongst people who have… helped me see the world from other perspective. Learn from my mistakes.”

The perspective of mortals. The thought of mortality as something real, something imminent.

Not that I wouldn't kill anymore if I had to, obviously.

“But you still kept in touch? After all those months? I don't remember ever seeing you.”

“That's because I only met Jim. I don't know how he did that but all the times I saw you it was _him_.”

“Yeah, sometimes he fights for the control, and if he takes me by surprise he can get it.” James ran a hand through his face. “It's exhausting to hold him back.”

“Have you tried talking to him? Find out if he knows more than you do about this?” I asked.

“I… haven't. Lately he isn't showing up much. I had started to think that maybe he was fading somehow, until you arrived last week, that's it.”

“I'm sorry” I said, and I meant it. Just a little.

He didn't add anything, so we stayed there, the tea either cold or finished. This was actually the first conversation we had had since I came here almost two weeks ago. He hadn't asked anything about why I was there or who I was. Maybe he thought the least he knew the better.

“What are you hiding from?” James suddenly inquired. “I mean, you came here and haven't left the building in two weeks. You must be hiding.”

“I am…” _not hiding_. “I'm hiding from my responsibilities, actually. I don't want to confront them.”

“Are those responsibilities criminal?” James asked reticently.

“No, no. Nothing like that. We, my… friends and I, we had a little fallout. I just want time to think.”

“Okay.”

He looked at the clock hanging from the wall and got up.

“Sorry, it’s getting late. I have to go. Thanks for the chat.” He smiled warmly before going to the entrance to get his coat.

“Thanks for letting me stay” I shouted after him. He came back into the living room, the coat already on his hands.

“It's nothing. I may not know you that much, but Jim does, and you don't seem to bring a lot of trouble. For Jim's standards.”

_That's where you are wrong_ , I though. But I didn't say it out loud.

“Still, I'm thankful. Not a lot of people would accept a virtual stranger into their homes. And even less if they had anything to do with their evil alter ego” I only half joked.

“It's OK. Anyway, I've got a casting now so I won't be back in a few hours. Wish me luck” he informed me. “And no evil, please.”

“I'm more of mischief, actually” I laughed, but he had already disappeared through the door.

I lay down on the couch and watched TV for a while. News, mostly, looking for something relevant in New York or any move from the Avengers or SHIELD. But there was nothing, so I decided to try to reach Sherlock.

In the kitchen I found a silvery tray James often used to carry the tea —he had indeed used it shortly before, to bring the cups. I brought it to my room; the guest room, functional but quite impersonal, and placed it on the bed. Then I sat down with my legs crossed in front of it and concentrated.

If I used magic so far from their machines not even Stark or Amora should be able to locate me. Moreover, I was not the only being in the Realm to wield magic, and distance and other readings should blur their signal. A spell this insignificant shouldn’t pose any threat to my position.

_Sherlock._

There was no answer.

_Sherlock,_ I tried again. Still nothing.

What was the time zone difference between London and New York, anyway? It was early noon, he couldn't possibly still be asleep, could he?

_Sherlock._ I called again, with more insistence this time.

Only silence answered me.

_If you are trying to trick me I will kill you._

Furious and just a little concerned, I waved my fingers over the reflecting surface of the tray, thinking about Sherlock.

There was a blur as always, but it didn't sharpen or define; it blackened and disappeared.

Something was wrong.


	24. Arrogance, Prejudice & Excuses

The useless Midgardian hadn't even managed to stay safe for one week. _One week_. Ten days. Whatever.

My point is, I had warned him, and yes, I felt a bit guilty about whatever had happened to Sherlock and probably —this one didn't interest me that much— his lover, but anger was above it all.

Stupid humans. No wonder they didn't even know there were other life forms _out there_. The great, unbelievable Sherlock Holmes, who thought himself above everyone and anyone, hadn't managed to be safe for _ten days_. What was unbelievable was that he had survived all this year's without being murdered. Maybe I would do that myself when I found him.

_If._

_Shut up, you're not even helping right now._

_I thought you were angry at him?_

_I'm not. I am. I don't know. I'm just angry. Shut up._

I was so going to kill his little soldier for this. Wasn't he supposed to be his bodyguard or something? By the Norns, really. Useless. Everyone is so incompetent.

The soldier. I could try to contact him instead. I looked back at the now mundane tray and breathed deeply to perform the spell again, but a sudden presence at the threshold interrupted me.

I knew instantly it wasn't James.

"Hello, Jim, long time no see" I greeted. He had just appeared once or twice since I came. It had been mostly James.

"Your use of magic never ceases to amaze me" he commented.

"You know I can't teach you. You have it or you don't. It's in your blood." We had had this conversation before.

"I know" he rolled his eyes dramatically. Good old Jim. Well, evil. "What are you doing now with my tea tray?"

"Contact an ally" I simply answered. With Jim you could never be too vague. Anything, and I mean _anything_ , you told him would be carefully stored and used against you. "How's the casting gone?"

"James' casting? I don't know, ask him yourself when you see him."

No need to be so bitchy. _Geez._

"I thought you may know it. You know, being in the same body and all that" I said, apparently an innocent comment. It wasn't, of course.

"You've talked to him, don't lie, Loki. Oh, well, _Liesmith_ , I remember." Jim made a mocking face at the name.

"Can't help myself." I made a face myself, similar to the ones he was so prone to do.

"You didn't pay me for staying here. That's rude." He pouted.

"Well, I was going to, you see, but then you kind of vanished and then there was no one who would appreciate my payment as you would, now was it?" I poked. It actually wasn't my fault James had resurfaced from the sinister depths of Jim Moriarty's mind.

"Yeah, he usually does that. Don't pay attention to him; he's boring and ordinary." Jim rolled his eyes, as if I were talking about some stupid old classmate he used to know.

"Then why don't you kill him?" I inquired.

He threw me a look that clearly stated how stupid he thought I was.

"Being good has really made you an idiot." Then he pointed at himself. "Hellooo, same body."

"I know that, James. I mean subjugate him. _Be in control?_ Does it ring any bells?"

"Jim" he corrected. Now that I knew James existed, calling Jim James was even more fun. "And where would be the fun on that? If he sees he can't make me stop, he will stop. It will be over. You know how difficult is to find a good entertainment these days?" he asked.

_Entertainment._ That reminded me, I had to contact Sherlock's entertainment.

"I've been quite entertained myself" I commented. Maybe I could use this minimal part of barely useful information as bargain.

"By whom, if you do not dispose of Anthony Stark anymore?" he arched an eyebrow, curious.

"Well, you do know it has a price."

"Don't play my own tricks on me. They won't work."

"Might as well try." I shrugged and kept silent. Waiting for Moriarty to lose patience.

It didn't take long, though. Jim Moriarty hadn't changed one bit. He still was as impatient as always.

"OK, OK, I want to know. Tell me, I'm _burning_ with curiosity." He smiled smugly at me. "Who is deemed good enough as to claim to be a friend of the great God of Mischief?"

"I never said _friend_ " I corrected.

"I don't care" he answered, slowly, drawing out the syllables in a way only he knew.

"His name's John. Quite dull himself, actually, but he is acquaintance of a brilliant mind" I explained, wanting to give out no information but the strictly necessary.

"Do I detect fondness in there, Loki? Do you like such a, in your words, dull creature?" Jim wanted to know. I raised my head violently at that.

"What? Ugh. No. That's just ridiculous. He's just a means to an end."

"I see. I get from that you don't want to contact him but his acquaintance. The one with the brilliant mind" Moriarty pushed. "What was his name again? Being so special I must have heard of him. Maybe I even know him. Or did. Maybe I've killed him."

"I'm positive you haven't" I chuckled. "He lives in London too, much like yourself, by the way. He's called Sherlock."

At that Jim stopped examining the room around me —as impersonal and clueless as it was when I took it— and suddenly pierced me with his eyes, with an intensity only Moriarty could get so rapidly.

"Say that again" he commanded.

"He lives in London? You haven't killed him? What do I repeat?" The obvious answer was to repeat everything, but I very much liked to tease and watch people grow frustrated with me. That's why it was so fun to pick on John. He always swallowed the bait.

"Repeat what you said" he ordered again.

Uh. He had entered his psycho maniac zone.

Why was he reacting so exaggeratedly? Everything was exaggerated with Jim, but still. The soldier didn't have anything special to… _Oh_. But Sherlock did.

He had reacted when I had said Sherlock's name, not John's. So that was it. Did they know each other?

Both living in London and having such extraordinary minds, even if they were one on each side of the coin, I should have known it.

"John's", only anticipation in there, no reaction out of the normal, "friend's name is Sherlock Holmes." _There it was the reaction._ "Do you know him?" I asked as innocently as I could pretend to be.

Jim didn't answer right away, but took his time to calm down. Then he smiled knowingly.

"I'm sorry to be the one to announce it, but he _is_ dead."

"He's not." My heart started beating fast.

"Dear, I killed him _months_ ago."

_Well, that's a relief._

"Then you and I may have different definitions of _dead_ " I laughed. "Because he was alive and well two weeks ago."

Moriarty's calm facade crumbled down in a matter of milliseconds.

"What?!" He turned and stormed out of the room. "I need to fix this" he added, mumbling.

"Jim" I called. Note the Jim instead of James.

"Yes, love? Kinda busy right now." He was looking at his phone, scrolling down his contacts.

"You won't lay a finger on him" I warned.

"Don't worry, I won't do anything irreversible."

"Jim Moriarty. I will use all my power and resources to make your life a living Hell if you cause him any harm. And your sorry excuse for a lifespan is no more than a blink for me; I have all the time of the world to hunt you down and make you live in quivering fear of even your shadow."

A little magic and voilà, green sparks coming from my fingers and wind whirling around me, successfully giving my statement that dramatic effect I knew would make an impression in Moriarty.

It did.

He looked at me and widened his eyes.

"Alright, no need to be so bitchy." Jim was dancing on the edge of the knife and he knew it. Or maybe he didn't. "But since you seem so interested in Sherlock, I will observe him. Just get to know what he's been up to while I thought he was dead."

He shrugged and exited the room, leaving me alone again. About time, if you ask me. Besides, that was the best I was getting out of this. I could always kill Moriarty if he trespassed the boundaries.

I looked back at the shiny tray in front of me and finally focused on John. John Watson. Military doctor. Sherlock's lover. Not very bright. Short, blondish.

An image started to form. It was John. He was alone, sat on the edge of the bed, looking into the nothingness. He looked awful.

Now that I thought of it, I didn't have his phone number. Only Sherlock's. And judging by my unsuccessful attempts to contact him just now, it might not be a good idea to call him. Just in case.

I looked around and picked up a pen and some paper. Then I scribbled a quick note and threw it into the tray. Instead of bouncing it melted and went through to the other side.

John looked confused at the paper that had just landed beside him from apparently nowhere. He read it and his expression morphed into something between relief and anger.

_I'm watching you right now. Write your phone number on a paper so I can call you properly._

That's what I had written in the paper. It was a real nuisance to be communicating through notes like teenagers in love.

The soldier huffed but did as he was told. Seconds later he found a pen and wrote down a series of numbers. I copied them and rushed out of the room.

I couldn't use my own phone; it could be traced. I didn't even had it with me, though —I had left it in Stark Tower when I fled—.

"James!" I called.

"It's Jim" retorted an annoyed voice from the kitchen. _Still Jim, then._ “You twat" he added in a more quiet tone. I wouldn't have heard him if I weren't a god.

I entered the room and saw him fiddling with his mobile.

"Give me your phone."

"No" came the short answer.

"Give. Me. Your. Phone." I tried to sound as commanding as I could. I am a Prince of Asgard and the God of Mischief. This weak human wasn't going to defy me.

"Why do you need it for?" Moriarty wanted to know.

"To talk."

"Don't be obvious."

"James."

"You know it's Jim" he answered, in a dangerously velvety voice.

"I know. Give me your phone now."

"You're no fun now Loki. Such a shame." He shook his head and handed me the artefact in his hands.

I quickly dialled the number I had written down and waited. At the second beep he picked up.

"Where is Sherlock?" I asked right away.

"I was hoping you could answer me that."

"What has happened to him?"

"I… don't know. He was with me, and then—" John started.

"He was with you? Aren't you supposed to protect him? By the Norns, are you really that useless?" I cut him off.

"I am not you idiot! It was your fault in the first place for coming into our lives! And then for fleeing. I guess that's what you do, isn't it?" he accused.

I swallowed because that hit a little too close from home.

"If you weren't so redundantly idiotic you'd have already told me what happened and I would be thinking about a plan." I made a pause, proud of what Silvertongue had achieved. "Speak now, mortal, and speak fast."

I heard him sigh.

"So he was with me having breakfast and then he went back up into the room and when I went myself he wasn't there anymore. I thought he might have gone for a walk or something, but he didn't come back" he explained.

"Oh, and when did you notice he didn't come back, ten minutes ago? Because I've been away for two weeks. And you haven't _tried_ to contact me once."

"I didn't know how!"

"Could there possibly be a poorer excuse? Say it out loud; you didn't want to have to ask _me_ for help." Even through the phone I could sense I was right. "Your prejudice and arrogance may have got your lover killed. Congratulations."

I hung up, not waiting for a response. I deleted the call from the memory and handed the phone back to Moriarty, who had a terribly amused expression.

"Is that the dull one? He seems to be fun to pick on."

"He is. But also so disgustingly exasperating" I mumbled, heading back into my room.

It had to be SHIELD. Avengers could also be, but they were too civilised as to kidnap someone, as guilty as they thought they were. SHIELD, on the other hand… It didn't have the reservations the _heroes_ had.

If Steve Rogers stood for something, that was civilisation. He wouldn't allow any individual agendas either.

Luckily for Sherlock —taking into consideration the situation—, I knew exactly where SHIELD would take a potential prisoner.

And my mind was already running frenetically with plans, backups and escape options.


	25. The One Who Does As He Pleases

I didn't know where I was. I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know how long I had been blacked out. What I knew, though, is that I was inside. Exactly where I wanted to infiltrate.

Not in ideal conditions, but that could be dealt with.

I think.

I looked around me. It was a dim lit room, plain dark greyish walls and no furniture. I was sat on a chair, my hands handcuffed at the back and my ankles to the legs. I sensed a soreness in the articulations from being in this position for too long. There was no mirror to be seen, but it could be behind me.

An interrogation room.

A door opened outside my view and a pair of heavy steps followed by some lighter ones entered the room.

The man with the heavy footsteps appeared in front of me. He was bald, dark skinned, and lacked an eye. The one remaining was fixed on me.

“Mr Holmes, nice to meet you.”

“I wish I could say the same, but that would be lying.” I eyed the man up and down, analysing his posture and manners. “Mr Fury, I suppose.”

His expression didn't change. So I was right. Of course I was. I always was.

“Well, Mr Holmes. I was hoping we could have a nice chat.”

“Well, Mr Fury” I replied, mimicking his tone. “Having me chained doesn't help you on that.”

“What about you get unchained if you answer a few questions?”

I remained silent and cocked my head to the side, encouraging him to continue, even though I already knew what those questions were about.

“Do you know the whereabouts of the one who calls himself the God of Mischief?”

“Sorry, who?” I teased. Fury pursed his lips.

“Loki. The God of Mischief. Black hair, green eyes, tall, lean” the director described.

“It seems you like him.” He raised an eyebrow at that and I answered by raising one of my own and smiling mischievously.

“Just answer the question, Mr Holmes.”

“Now that you mention it, someone who fitted with that description came to me for help.”

“And?”

“I dismissed him, of course. His case was boring” I said, as if it were obvious.

“May you tell me what his _case_ was?” wanted to know Fury.

“I don't know. He didn't tell me. I saw him and said I wouldn't help him. You should have seen the guy. He was practically screaming dull. I don't do _dull_.” I watched his face, which didn't change. He was indeed a good spy. And so was the woman behind me, lurking in the shadows, listening and observing. Did they know I knew she was there?

“Mr Holmes, why were you in New York?”

“I was on holiday, why?” I tried to look surprised by the question.

“There are no flight tickets reserved under the name of Sherlock Holmes.”

“That's because I didn't book it.”

“And who did it, then?”

“My assistant. He's the one who usually does those things. They should be under his name.”

“So, let me know if I get something wrong. You, for no apparent reason, decided to go on holiday to New York on your own the very same week our prisoner had escaped and contacted you. You may understand why this could seem suspicious, Mr Holmes” Fury said.

“But I didn't come alone. I was with my boyfriend. Who must be really confused right now. Have you explained to him why have I disappeared? No? You should have. How long have I been here, by the way?”

“Your boyfriend? Who may that be?” he asked, ignoring completely my other questions. So it had been a long time. If it were a couple of hours of so he might have answered.

“My assistant, of course. Why else would he book personal stuff like flights to go on holiday?” My tone left no doubt about how intelligent I thought he was. Which, by the way, was really little.

Fury sighed.

“Mr Holmes, we understand that this is a difficult situation, but if Loki has threatened or blackmailed you in any way we will solve that. You can trust us.”

_Trust a vague yet menacing agency. Yeah, right._

“He hasn't” I almost cut him off.

“So you know him” Fury accused.

“No, I don't. That's why I said he hasn't” I explained calmly. I was certainly having my fun on this.

Fury sighed and looked somewhere behind me. At the woman, presumably. Then he nodded and stepped back.

A moment later the redhead appeared in my view, piercing me with her gaze like I was a prey she was stalking.

“Sherlock.” The way her voice curled around the words, like steel hidden under silk, sent a chill down my spine. “I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. Loki is a war criminal. He is dangerous, more than any man you've ever encountered.”

“Yet he lacks purpose, rendering him useless.” _And he is certainly_ not _the most dangerous man I've known._

“I wouldn't say he doesn't have an objective. He does. He wants revenge against us, against humanity, for capturing and punishing him.”

She was good, I had to admit that. She was exaggerating, obviously, but still. No one would believe Loki didn't hold any grudge against the whole universe. The man was such a diva. He words made sense, even if I knew the truth.

_Do you?_

“I don't see how I fit there. Or here” I said, moving my head to include the whole room.

“We know he has contacted you, and that you've been helping him. So you can just admit it and tell us what you know or we'll have to take it from you.” It wasn't even a threat, more like a fact. That made it scarier than any threat could ever be.

_Oh well, there is no point in pretending anymore._

And I still was getting the best I could out of the situation.

“Let's bargain, then, shall we?”

The spy smirked.

“What makes you think you are in any position to demand such?”

“Well, you are desperate. You posture is tense even if you try to hide it; which you do quite well, thanks to your training. You are purposefully suppressing any signs that could show your nervousness. Nostrils, pulse, the very way you stand. It is screaming your story, your identity. Former spy, obviously, now reformed agent. But you do not think you can wash the blood off your hands, do you? No matter how hard you try to do _good_ , the past is always there to torment you.” An almost imperceptible quirk of her mouth. “Nice to meet you, Natasha Romanoff. The infamous Black Widow.”

“You could've looked it up online. You knew I am an Avenger; that doesn't prove anything” she replied coldly, looking unimpressed.

“But you know the information there is false, don't you? A fake identity. You must have enemies. How's the new life going? Not that much torture, I dare say.”

“You only have to know where to look at to find what you want. Which is what you've done.” She purposely ignored my questions.

“I'm sure I could have. But I haven't. Easy paths are boring.” I lied, quickly gazing back at her again. “It is also known that you worked as a sleeper cell and that you studied to be a ballerina in the meanwhile?”  I said, waiting for the reaction. The lack of it disappointed me.

“Where did you get that?” she asked, not giving off any emotion.

“Well, your posture says old ballerina. I guess you weren't trained to be a ballerina, were you now? But still something remains. And when and why would you do that, given the amount of time needed to learn? Obviously, sleeper cell. Simple as that” I explained, smirking.

“I see you are the showing off type.” Her face was as blank as it ever was. _Didn't she have facial expressions, by God's sake?_

_Oh wait, she's working. Of course she doesn't now. She's good._

 “I _am_ a genius” I simply stated.

“You are indeed. No one I've ever known knew about the dance classes I attended. That says something.” There was silence for a moment. “What do you want to get out of this _bargain_?”

“Oh, giving up so soon? I thought you'd be tougher. You don't keep up with the legends around you, I'm afraid.”

“Just thought hearing your demands out loud wouldn't hurt anyone.”

Actually I hadn't exactly thought what I wanted to get, but still. Her being positive to listening my requests was a good sign. They _were_ desperate.

“Firstly, I want you and your organisation to let me and John Watson go. We are not a part of this.” A pause. “You have to guarantee our safety. And also Loki's. He is not a prisoner anymore, he can do as he pleases.”

Natasha huffed.

“Him doing what he pleases is exactly the problem. And he still has some pending matters with us. His sentence is not over yet” she snarled.

“His powers were given back to him. His rights restored” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“He has amends to make for what he did.”

“To whom?” I asked suspiciously.

“Please Mr Holmes, continue with your demands” spoke a voice from behind me. Fury.

Natasha looked at him for a moment. Then nodded once.

“You are asking for a lot for only giving us information we could get anyway. You're just a shortcut” Agent Romanoff told me.

 I stared at her for some seconds.

“I only have one final request to make” I said, slowly, making sure she caught every word. “Capture and kill one Jim Moriarty” I finished and watched Natasha raise an eyebrow.

“The Napoleon of Crime, uh? You think we aren't looking for him?”

“Well, I _know_ you don't know where he is.” I let my eyes wander around the room distractedly before focusing on Natasha again. “But I do.”

At that she nearly —nearly— gasped and looked at Fury, waiting for an answer. I couldn't see it, but judging by the expression on her face, it was permission. She took a couple of steps closer to me, until our knees were touching. Then she bended and came dangerously close. I could feel her breath on my face, each acute and feline feature, the red hair falling over her shoulders.

“How can we be sure you do have that information?” she inquired.

“How can I be sure you will do what I requested?” I replied. “Even if you said you will let Loki go, you could just break your promise.”

“There is no promise to be broken” she answered.

Her fierce eyes were drilling into mine, making their way into my skull and my very core. I felt exposed. But being this close also allowed me to notice smaller details than usual.

And she was lying. She didn't have the authority to make that decision, to order to drop the search for Loki. That wasn't in her hands, but neither was in Fury's, director of SHIELD. So it had to be someone even more above. Asgard.

Earth was just the prison, the courts were far away.

She just stared at me after that, and so did I.

“Okay, fair point” interrupted Fury from the shadows behind me. “We'll have to trust each other in this.”

“I tend not to trust spies. I quite like not being stabbed in the back” I mocked.

Agent Romanoff looked briefly at Fury behind me just once, then went back to examining me with her eyes like I were some kind of animal she was about to hunt.

“We will leave you to your musings.”

She straightened and turned. Without looking back, she and Fury exited the room.

Their steps resonated for a couple more of seconds until there was only silence. There was only me.

They would be back.

_But when?_


	26. Shapes, Letters, Words.

It took three more days to prepare everything. Moriarty appeared more than he had this last two weeks, and started making questions I didn't have the time or the patience to answer.

But in the end he helped me develop the plan. I had forgotten how extraordinary he was with this. I was still cautious, though. It was Moriarty we were talking about, after all.

James was there sometimes too, and asked me about Jim. He wanted to know things about him from someone who had known him, who _understood_ him. When he asked that I couldn't help but laugh out loud, because seriously, no one can understand Moriarty. That's why he _is_ Moriarty: unpredictable, volatile, changeable. That last was, by his own words, his only weakness.

Still, I told James anything I could. Some things were better to keep hidden and some others were just none of his business.

Once he saw me thinking about the best approach to breach the security, but he didn't comment on it, because he knew it was nothing he would like. Sometimes it was hard to remember they were actually the same person. Jim would have stuck his nose into it at the moment.

He was the one who was in control when I went to say goodbye before I departed.

“I'll be keeping an eye on your little adventure, Loki” he said.

“This is hardly an adventure. More like an errand” I replied, going through the carefully prepared plan for the zillionth time.

“How's rescuing your dear Sherlock an errand?” Jim stopped looking at his manicured nails to rest his gaze upon me. “But that's not the only thing you are going to do, is it? Nah, that's not your style.”

He was practically bouncing on his heels, with the face of an excited five year old the day of his birthday.

“I may have other objectives for this mission, yes. But getting Sherlock is my top priority.” _Not that I am going to disclose any of them to you, James._

“Of course. Because you're boring and predictable. Because you _care_. I miss old you.”

“Old me.” I chuckled. “Sometimes I miss him too” I added quietly. Everything would be so much easier looked through the glass of emotions clouding my mind then. I would only have to toss them away and trust my instincts. Just instincts, just self-preservation. Just bare, feral me.

But I was so much better now. Yes, I was so much better. Much clearer, everything was so much clearer.

“Goodbye then, Loki. I hope to see you soon.” He was smiling in that unpleasant manner that made mortals want to run and hide from it. That smile was pure evil.

I liked it.

“I shall be in touch with my favourite psychopath” I teased, and he only pouted before smiling proudly. Such a murderous, psychotic five year old.

I turned and appeared in Central Park. A place big enough not to be found easily even if traced by, let's say, magic, but still a relatively reduced space.

I had purposely teleported near the biggest lake there, called The Lake. Really. Who put names to these things, anyway?

I walked up to the shore and knelt down to lay a finger on the surface of the water. Then, I let the cold inhabiting my core spread out into it, turning first my hand a deep blue and then the water into ice.

The wavering surface kept freezing, forming curves and lines until it created shapes. Letters. Words.

I hadn't really had the time to enjoy the upsides of being Jötunn. With the imprisonment and trial and all that I hadn't had much time for _anything_. But I liked this. It's not something I couldn't have done with magic, but it felt different. It was also part of me, it was just natural, but it was a different kind of natural.

I had to refocus when one of the ice trails started to play and created frozen figures, as beautiful as ephemeral under the sun.

People on boats on the lake were looking around them confused, not being able to see the words forming from their point of view. But some people around me could see them, and some others were staring at me. It wouldn't be long until someone recognised me as the _alien_ who brought the invasion into the city. Even if SHIELD had covered that part quite well, you can't quite get rid of conspiracies.

I pulled the finger from the water and pulled the blue back, returning to my Aesir appearance. Then I got up, shook off the dust the ground had left on my knees, and walked carefully out of the way, already waiting for someone to show up.

There was a castle —or the sorry excuse of a castle— somewhere a little up, so I went there and sat to watch.

From here I could read the message perfectly, and see everything that came near it.

_Never really got the drink you offered._

It seemed harmless enough. People wouldn't link it to me, but Stark would. And probably the Avengers, but they had only heard half the joke, so it was also probable they wouldn't.

Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. Fifteen minutes or so later, a red and golden flying thing crossed the sky and hovered over the lake. The one and only Anthony Stark in his shiny metal armour. Iron Man.

I got up from the bench I was sat on and leaned over the banister. For a while I just watched him as he flew around, commanding his usually ceiling machine to look out for me.

Then I raised a hand and waved at him, once. But it was enough. He turned, alerted by his machine, and flew straight towards me. I stepped back to give him space to land and watched him as he did so. He didn't take off the mask, though.

“Hello” I said, almost purring of excitement.

“You had to write a message the size of the whole lake? Really?” he asked. Not even a greeting. Geez.

“I was being dramatic. Adds a touch, don’t you think?”

“Couldn't you _call_? You know, there are these little devices, they are called mobile phones—”

“I have a phone. I left it in the tower, remember?” I cut him off.

“But you should have called. Just to say you were okay. Because—”

“So you could track me. Right. I would totally do that” I snarled. _How did we always end up like this?_

“—because I was worried” he finished.

It was a cycle. He started accusing me of something, I was defensive, talked back, we argued and then he said something like that and everything went crumbling down. My anger placated and we ended up having make up sex. _Well, I won't complain about that part._

I sighed.

“I need to talk to you.” His face fell at that just for a moment. “To all of you. I need to clear things up.”

I tried to look humble, but after the show of the lake I doubted it would be credible.

“Okay. We can go to the Tower, I'll call everyone. Tasha and Clint are probably there, having one of their cheesy dates, but Capsicle is out, so you'll have to wait for him” Tony announced.

That was an advantage, actually. It would give me time once I was inside.

“I'll wait. It's alright.” Then I grinned. “And maybe you and I can make up for lost time.”

He laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Perverted as always, Loki. You never change, uh?”

“It's been a month” I half whined, half complained.

“Poor god, a month without sex. It's not that much, you know?” he joked.

“Ha ha. Really funny, Anthony. Maybe I should leave you to your own devices. See how you manage to survive without my amazing and mind blowing sex.”

“You're really mean, you know that?”

“Mischievous.” I smiled and leaned forward for a chaste kiss on the lips. He tried to deepen it but I backed off before he could do anything.

Tony huffed.

“Let's go, Princess.”

He hugged me and really, I should have seen it coming. A moment later I was suspended in the air with only a pair of metal arms to keep me from falling. I couldn't help it. I shrieked. I don't like heights.

So I held tight to the red and golden armour, having as much pride as I could muster given the current situation. Which wasn't much, really.

I was facing Stark, so I compelled myself to keep my eyes open at least. I refused to look like a coward.

We arrived to the Stark Tower in way more time than necessary. I suspected that maybe Tony had given a tour instead of coming straight here. That would make him feel really intelligent, thinking he could've fooled me with his cheap tricks.

He landed on the balcony where I had thrown him out of the window the first time I had been here.

“Does this bring memories to you too or am I the only one to remember being thrown out of a window?” he asked.

“I was just thinking about it. I just hadn't said anything in case you wanted to take revenge” I answered, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“I am above defenestrating people as a way of vengeance. I am all about making them shriek when flying instead.” He got really close and smiled smugly. I rolled my eyes and turned to get into the house, avoiding the kiss he was surely about to give me.

“Are you coming or not?”

After that I heard his footsteps walking behind me, while the metal parts of the suit were mechanically detached.

I sat on the couch of the lounge. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table. I tsked.

“I thought I had corrected your erratic behaviour concerning drinking” I commented, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

“But mum wasn't around so I was mischievous.”

“I am not your mother, Anthony. You are a fully grown adult; you should start behaving as one.” I lowered my voice so he couldn't hear me. “And mischief is my thing.”

“Whatever you say, _mum_.”

He then proceeded to pour himself a glass. Well, at least he was using a glass.

“Aren't you going to call your brothers in arms?”

“And sister. Natasha would kick your ass if she ever heard you.” He drank the amber liquid. “I thought we could, I don't know, catch up a little bit.”

“We are not having sex until you've called and informed them of my presence” I warned him, raising my chin just imperceptibly.

“I can't believe you think that's what catch up means.”

“Is it not, now?” I asked sceptically.

“That is not the point.” I stared at him to make him uncomfortable and force him to admit it. “Okay, yeah. That's what I meant. You can't blame me.”

“How does the saying go? Oh, yes. Delayed gratification tastes better?”

“Alright, you win. I'll call them. But you owe me some gratification here.” Tony pointed a finger at me. “JARVIS, call, ah, you know who. You've been listening. Do you want SHIELD too?” Stark asked. I nodded. The more people who were paying attention to me the better. “Then Fury too. Urgent.”

“You _are_ desperate, aren't you?” I laughed, before leaning in and kissing him. “A piece of gratification for you.”

“What a generous god I have” he said in my mouth.

“Indeed you do.”

Stark didn't give a reply. Instead, he kissed me again, deeper this time.


	27. The One Who Pulls Your Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, just wanted to say I have a beta reader now, the lovely and amazing rowencye, so I'll be touching up some words in the previous chapters, nothing important, just to make it sound more natural. Thank you! I always try to improve, so any suggestions are welcome.

Eleven days. I think. Probably eleven days had passed since I woke up here. Maybe ten. Maybe twelve. Let's stick to eleven, judging by the face of Fury each time he had come to me. But to that I had to add the mysterious amount of time I had been unconscious.

Probably it wasn't more than a day, because it would have to be a rather strong anaesthetic otherwise, and why would they want me that much time out? Unless the place where I was was really far, which I doubted.

Maybe if they had expected to see Loki instead of me, a more powerful sedative would be needed, but he had spoken to Thor just before leaving, so they _had_ to know he wasn't in New York anymore. Even if the Avengers weren’t connected to SHIELD, both Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, the Black Widow and Hawkeye, as they were better known, worked for the organisation. So there was communication, if nothing else.

There wasn't _here_ , though. This was killing me. I spent my time locked up in a plain, boring, immaculate room. It only had a bed. Twice a day some guard would come and free me to do my necessities.

I was so bored. I almost looked forward to the visits from SHIELD's one eyed director.

He was the one who brought me the food, maybe because I was important, maybe because he wanted me to think I was important. Either way, he and the redhead spy were nearly the only contact with other people I had. Not that I would've minded in other circumstances.

_Speak of the devil._

I heard two pairs of footsteps walking down the corridor, and some seconds later the door opened.

“Mr Fury, Miss Romanoff, always a pleasure to see you” I greeted, full of sarcasm. “So you already know when I'll be out of here or…?”

“Indeed, Sherlock. You'll be released soon enough” announced Natasha. “But first you have to hold up your part of the deal.”

“How's your date with Agent Barton gone?” I answered the way I knew better to irritate anyone. With questions and blatantly ignoring the other's.

“It wasn't a date; it was an errand.”

“You're an amazing liar, Miss Romanoff. But your tongue betrays you.” I looked at said muscle for a moment. “Perhaps you should be more careful with where you put it.”

“Where do you put yours, Mr Holmes?” So now she was addressing me by my surname. Interesting.

“That's information you'll have to bargain for, I'm afraid.”

Natasha looked briefly at me before changing the subject.

“Tell us what you know about Jim Moriarty and you'll be free” she offered.

“Free is not the only thing I want” I answered, noticing the wording.

“Your freedom and partial protection is all we can assure. We won't harm either you or your partner but can't guarantee others won't.”

Well, at least she was being frank.

_Yes, a spy being honest. Try again._

_Touché._

“What about Loki?” I wanted to know, despite already knowing the answer.

“It's not our call to make.” She wouldn't say it; she wouldn't admit SHIELD was just a pawn and that it wasn't in their hands to decide anything concerning Loki. It already seemed like it pained her to say what she did.

“Whose is it, then?”

“That's information you'll have to bargain for, I'm afraid” the spy mocked, quoting my earlier sentence.

“Let's do it, then. I believe Moriarty is relevant enough as to be worth this, isn't he?”

“You tell me, Sherlock.” _And back to first name._

“He's been quiet lately, hasn't he?” Natasha looked at me expectantly. “Isn't it suspicious, Agent Romanoff?”

She just stared at me, impassive. I rolled my eyes.

“He lives in London. I would write you the address if I weren't handcuffed” I complained. “I believe is he using a fake identity, try to go unnoticed until he has something new to play with.”

“Something new to play with?” she asked.

“A new plot, someone to make dance to his son. Someone to entertain him” I explained.

“Someone, a partner? A victim?”

“A victim, but he could have a partner too. They had to be remarkable to be deemed adequate for Jim Moriarty, though.”

“So he is planning?”

“Oh, he is _always_ planning. No, no, no, he is waiting, in the centre of his web, waiting for news and opportunities for catastrophes to happen.”

“Tell me the address where he lives” Natasha demanded.

“I will only write it.” She looked at me, her expression indecipherable.

“Do you really know where he is or you're just planning on going round and round?”

“All in due time, my little spy.” She looked rather annoyed by the nickname.

“You are in no position to push further, little prisoner.”

Natasha Romanoff used her words and she used them well. In a single sentence she had managed to remind me of my position while answering my mocking in a figurative slap.

“I will only write it down” I repeated, slowly and pronouncing each syllable. “I just want to have blood flowing. Losing my hands is not on my list.” I shook said limbs, making the cuffs rattle.

And if she got close enough I could know how to get out of here. I had no intention of having to trust her as my only way out.

Fury shifted his weight behind me, and Natasha walked up behind me to loosen the cuffs.

I felt them loosen up, but the spy didn't come back into my visual field. Fury approached me and handed me a single piece of paper and a pen.

“Do it” he commanded.

I moved my wrists to shake off the soreness. The handcuffs had created red lines around then, nothing serious, but still. It was a reminder of where I was, despite my attitude and nonchalance.

I looked at Fury in the eye and picked up the pen. Agent Romanoff was still behind me, and I couldn't see without turning, which would seem suspicious. As I wrote the address, I took the opportunity to observe the director's shoes. They were shiny and spotless, so we weren't in the middle of nowhere, or at least we weren't surrounded by nature.

Some building in the centre of the city wasn't the ideal place for a governmental prison, so it had to be somewhere isolated yet close enough to the civilisation. Both Natasha and he came to me every day. Surely they weren't here the whole time. And if they did, that would mean this place was big enough and had the facilities needed.

I finished writing and handed the paper back to the one eyed man. He read it carefully.

“London… There's a long way there” he said, looking at the spy behind me. Oh, they were doing this on purpose. Dropping information so vague it wasn't actually useful.

“How long exactly?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

“That's not something you need to know” Natasha interrupted. “You'll be free in some hours, so I suggest you don't get too comfortable.”

“Don't worry about that.”

“But first” Fury started. _Oh, God. Not again._ “We need more on Loki.”

“We won't cause him any harm” Romanoff added.

“No.”

I wasn't even going to listen to their questions; that would indicate a vulnerable flank; somewhere they could push and poke. And that was not happening.

“Sherlock, we need to know. For his safety. Other dangers are coming after him” Natasha explained.

She was… telling the truth.

_Don't believe it. She's a spy._

“What other dangers?” Well, at least she had acknowledged SHIELD was one of them.

“From other worlds” Fury simply said. “We have no reason for harming him, but—”

“He destroyed half of New York, if I recall correctly” I cut him off. That was definitely reason enough.

“He did, and he has paid for his actions. Others don't think that way. Loki is looked for by many.”

“By whom is the question, rather than by how many, director” I said, earning an exasperated and mildly irritated look from the man.

“There's no need for you to know that, Sherlock.” Natasha said, still out of my view.

“Maybe you should be in front of me and not behind when saying my name.”

Surprisingly, she obliged. Seconds later she appeared in my line of vision, a smug expression in her face.

“Here I am.”

“Now, I believe I do have to know that” I pushed, not wanting to let go of the topic just yet.

“Oh, really?” Natasha mocked. “I believe you don't. Why would you need such a thing?”

“Because.” I started, but stopped. “Because.”

“ _Because_.” The spy arched and eyebrow at the answer. “You're telling me the great, eloquent, _superior_ Sherlock Holmes' only reply to an easy question is _because_? Maybe you are just the freak you are said to be.”

“What if that's my only reply?” I ignored the last comment.

“That won't earn you any answers, Sherlock.”

“It won't earn you any answers either, Miss Romanoff.” _So first name basis, right? Guess what. No._

“We have other ways of getting what we want.”

She then looked at Fury briefly, who nodded and went towards the door. The woman followed shortly after.

She was playing with me. She knew _I_ didn't have other ways of getting that information. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't. But I needed to know. I had to know to be able to help Loki, to protect him.

All the attitude from the last part of our conversation, Romanoff had been so out of character, with the mocking and the cruelty so uncharacteristic of her, comparing with the other times she had been here. Not the professional assassin from before, but something different, not a bit less manipulative. Still, she won. I couldn't afford to let such an opportunity pass. It may be my only one.

“Wait” I mumbled.

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Tell me.”

“Why would I do such a thing?”

“To help him.”

“Help who?”

Okay, that was the last straw. Now she was playing dumb.

“Who could it be? Loki, obviously” I snarled.

“And why would you want to help him? Loki is a villain, Sherlock.”

She was talking to me like I were a child. Ugh, frustrating.

“Because he is a client of mine.”

Natasha tsked.

“I thought you said you didn't know him, Sherlock.” I rolled my eyes. “Lying is a very bad habit.”

“You would know” I remarked.

“Sherlock, you must not lie.” Natasha spoke slowly, clearly, like I was some kind of short child. _Why wouldn't she just shut up?_

“Sherlock” she called. “Sherlock. You must not lie.” 

She made a pause and I just glared at her.

“Now, Sherlock. Why do you want to help Loki?”

“Because I care, OK? Because I want to protect him.” As soon as the words had left my mouth I knew they were a big mistake. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” I added, trying to make up for it.

Natasha Romanoff smiled, triumphant.

_Damn._

“Yes. Yes it is.”

_She's been playing with you, pulling your strings like a master puppeteer._

_You should have seen it happening._

She turned and headed towards the door, but just before exiting, she spoke again.

“Sherlock, the pen.”

_Really? I hadn't even managed to hide it?_

“What am I going to do with it, stab myself? Try to stab _you_? I just want to use it not to die of boredom.” There was no point in trying to deny it.

“That's exactly what we want.”

She waltzed gracefully, like a panther, picked up the pen, and left the room, leaving me alone once more.

Damn.


	28. Hickeys, Marks & Proof.

I ended up slammed against the wall, Stark's body pressed against mine. His hands slid down my back and ass, and he lifted me over a small table. With a move of my hand the things resting on it went flying, the objects scattered around the floor. I heard a vague thud but had more pressing matters in mind.

I locked my ankles behind Tony for support as I kissed him, tasting that mouth of his and feeling the scratch of his goatee on my skin. He backed off a bit, just enough to breathe, but I tangled my fingers in his unruly hair and pulled him to me again. He had already called the Avengers, so they would arrive soon. I wasn't wasting any time.

I bit his lip and pulled softly, drawing a delicious moan from him, which made me answer with a whimper of my own.

Tony brushed his hand against my side, raising it slowly until it was resting on my shoulder, his fingers drawing small circles on the base of my neck. He knew how much I loved to be touched on the neck, the bastard. His other hand went to my head, grabbed me by my hair and pulled. I gasped, surprised by the action.

"Your hair is getting long, dear" he commented.

"So is yours." I took a lock between my fingers and smiled. "Is it for me to pull at it?"

"We have things to talk about." Stark was serious now.

"Are you really bringing this up _now_?" I asked, annoyed. "You, interrupting sex?"

"Yeah. This is important." He looked genuinely confused and just slightly hurt.

"The Tony Stark I know wouldn't do that. Ever."

"The Tony Stark you know is still the same. But he now knows there are things more important than sex."

"Stark, sex has been first and foremost in your mind since you were what? Fifteen years old?" I smiled, trying to ease the ambiance and make him continue the kissing. "Alright, we shall talk later. Now, this."

I ground my hips against his body, brushing his cock through his jeans to make my point. He let go of my hair and I darted forwards to kiss him again, to wipe off the concern and seriousness of his brow and enjoy decent sex.

_Give me a break, will you?_

_He's right. There_ are _things more important than sex._

_But it's quite nice. And it helps me get what I want. So shut up and come back later._

Stark answered by pressing even closer to me, until there was no air between us. I untangled my fingers from his hair and ran one of my hands down his back, while the other was placed on his shoulder for support.

He was already panting, flustered, so I let him pull away a bit to breathe. I took that moment to nibble at his jawline, then moving down to suck his neck. That would definitely leave marks, which was exactly my purpose. That way the Avengers would know what we had done, and Stark wouldn't even notice the hickeys until it was too late to hide them. I wanted them to know, to know I had the great Anthony Stark at my mercy, begging at my feet for my attentions.

When I was satisfied with the result, I moved further downwards and kissed his collarbone. He hadn't even noticed the purplish mark on his skin, as he was so absorbed into the pleasure.

I slid my free hand under his shirt and started teasing his nipple. Tony gasped, but soon recovered and relished in the sensation. His hand reached out to grab my shirt, pulling me even closer to him. Then he started unbuttoning my shirt, with a skill only experience can give.

_Such a wanton creature you are, Anthony._

He got stuck on one of the buttons, fumbling with it for some moments. I growled in exasperation and freed us of our clothes with a twist of my hand. Stark grinned and placed his hand over my chest, caressing the skin softly and sending waves of electricity through my body.

His hand moved downwards, down my chest and belly until he reached my aching cock. He then teased the head, gently at first but suddenly harsher. I jerked at that and hissed menacingly. But Tony only chuckled and continued with his ministrations, more kindly now.

A moan escaped my lips as his fingers wrapped around me, moving at an even pace at first, but soon making it faster. I couldn't help but snap my neck back and whimper in sheer pleasure. And that from only his hand.

"Stark" I managed to say, not even completely sure he had understood me. A grunt came as the response. "Fuck me, Stark."

He pulled me to a kiss and pushed his tongue inside my mouth, claiming dominance. I fought back instinctively, and I sensed his smile against my lips.

"As you please" he said, voice husky from desire. _That voice, umh…_

Tony brushed his fingertips along my back and ass, tracing the muscles in his way down. I shifted, and one of his fingers hovered over my entrance. I growled as a warning and Stark laughed, putting a finger under my chin and tilting my head up to kiss me sweetly, as he inserted the digit into me. It was slick with lube, which I hadn't even noticed he had taken out. It was certainly one of the marvels of this realm.

It was uncomfortable as expected, but I knew better, so I forced my body to relax. The finger started moving in circles and in and out, drawing soft moans from my lips. Soon a second one followed, while Stark didn't stop kissing me all over my body. Everywhere he touched felt like it was lit on fire. Probably because of his body temperature being higher than mine, but I'd like to think it was because of the _passion_ of the moment. Call me romantic. Or lustful. Either way the feeling was simply _amazing_.

Stark made scissoring movements with the fingers inside me, which made me arch my back in a silent scream.

Then three fingers were inside me, stretching my hole as needed. I groaned and saw him pouring lube on his hand before giving his cock a couple of lazy tugs to spread it. I licked my lips unconsciously at the sight. The arc reactor on his chest emanated a blue light and gave his features a mysterious glow. It was mesmerising.

I stared into those brown eyes of his for some moments, diving into their depths without ever drowning, for they were as familiar to me as my own.

Tony smiled beamingly and was about to push the tip of his cock into me when that annoying machine of his, Jarvis, spoke up, successfully interrupting us.

"Sir, the Avengers have arrived."

"Dammit Jar, don't you see I'm _busy_ here?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, but they have been quite insistent on me about informing you."

Tony sighed and I glared at him.

"We are not leaving until we're done here, Anthony" I warned, in case that sigh meant what I think it meant.

Stark eyed me, half amused and half exasperated, but smirked and leant down to place a trail of kisses along my belly.

"Jarvis, tell them to wait" he said between kisses.

Then he pushed the tip of his cock into me, slowly at first, until he thrusted to the hilt. I wrapped my hands around his neck tightly and hid my face in the crook of his neck, softly biting the flesh there. He hissed as he drew out before thrusting back in, setting a steady pace.

Soon pain gave place to pleasure; to great amounts of pleasure, actually. I scratched his back, digging my nails into his skin, most probably drawing blood. He only grunted, never stopping the glorious thrusts.

I slid one of my legs over his shoulder in an amazing show of my elasticity so he could thrust even deeper. The shift in my position made him touch my prostate, to which I could only scream loudly his name.

The Avengers were already here. May as well make them hear me.

Tony grabbed my hips to have a better grip but stopped neither his thrusts nor the little kisses he planted on my chest and neck.

I purred as I felt that familiar tension building up inside me. I was on the verge of release now, but Stark finished first, spilling his cum inside me as he screamed my name for everyone in the world to hear.

I grabbed my own cock and gave it some last tugs before I came too in my hand, and unintelligible scream leaving my lips.

The orgasm wore off and I rested my head on Stark's chest, taking advantage of us being at the same level. He pulled out and I was left with a feeling of sudden emptiness. I shivered.

"Showtime, handsome" Tony whispered.

"Give me a moment." I nuzzled his chest, just beside his arc reactor. "You are hot."

"You aren't bad either" Stark laughed.

"I mean, _hot_. Literally hot" I explained.

"That's never seem like a problem" he observed.

"It is not." I closed my eyes, but I could still see the blue light through my eyelids. "It's just curious, that's all."

We remained silent for some minutes until he cupped my cheek to make me look at him.

"It's about time we moved."

I blinked a couple of times. Time for the plan, yes. _Let's get this started._

I lazily moved my hand as I thought of the appropriate spell and a second later we were fully dressed again.

"There you go. Let's go."

I jumped from the table I was still sitting on and walked towards the door.

"When you are done checking out my ass I'll be downstairs, darling" I said to a slightly gaping Anthony Stark.

Without waiting for a reply, I exited the room, but instead of heading directly to the lounge, I went to one of the nearby bathrooms. Once inside, I casted a cloaking spell to block the cameras, locked myself in and took out a phone.

I telephoned John and waited for the signal. Beep. Beep. Beep. After the third beep he answered.

"Where are you?" I asked right away. I needed to know his position to send a clone.

"I've just entered through one of the back doors. Erh, it said personnel only. It was black, and there were these rubbish containers near."

I quickly ran a mental scan of all the entrances to the SHIELD facility of New York. Okay, there was one which fitted with the description.

I moved my hands sharply as I weaved magic and created a clone in the location John had described.

"Do you see me?" I asked.

"No, where…? Oh. Yes, yes, there you are. Okay."

"You know what to do."

Without waiting for any response, I hung up and exited the bathroom. Stark was just exiting the bedroom, and looked at me oddly.

"Why are you still here?" I asked accusingly.

Tony shook his head exasperatedly and passed an arm through my shoulders, smiling.

"Time to listen to your little world domineering ramblings."


	29. Powerful, Dangerous & Betrayed.

"Won't the Avengers know you're missing from their Tower if you're here?" John asked suspiciously.

"No, stupid mortal. I am here, and I _am_ there” I said, using my hands to explain myself.

He burrowed his brow, confused, before his face lit up as he realised what I meant.

"Oh. _Oh_. Like, time travel?"

_By the Norns. Really? Such an idiotic creature._

"Like, no” I mimicked his tone. "Like, clones. Illusions."

I started walking towards the door, tampering a little with the cameras and their most recent records of the mortal.

"Oh." That was the only thing he answered before going after me. His footsteps made an awfully loud noise against the gravel ground. He was going to ruin everything even before it started.

"Wait, are you the real one or the copy?"

"This Loki you are seeing is the original, at least a part of him."

"What does that even mean?"

"Think and use that little grey head of yours" I prompted.

He stayed silent for some moments before speaking again.

"That's something Sherlock would say."

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you expect me to comfort you?"

"No; it's just that…" He composed himself. "Never mind. Let's go."

"We are already going" I pointed out. "And now shut up."

 

* * *

 

As soon as we entered the lounge, Tony suddenly let go of me. There were, apart from the omnipresent Avengers, Fury and Pepper. I raised an eyebrow. I understood the director's presence, but not the woman's.

"Loki is back" Stark announced cheerfully.

"I am not back" I corrected, stepping away from the engineer. "I am, however, here."

I swept my gaze around the room, pausing a moment on each one of them.

"You are not going to say you are burdened with glorious purpose, are you?" Clint asked, his arms crossed defensively.

"Why, agent Barton, would that be a problem?" He just narrowed his eyes but I could see his arms tensing. "No, my intentions here are to merely talk. I do not wish another war. You would not survive."

Stark groaned in exasperation at that. I ignored him and started to pace the room, slowly, to build tension and make them anxious. They were so serious and fun to watch when they were nervous.

"Are you going to tell me why I have come here?" asked Fury from behind me.

I turned to look at him and looked surprised.

"I don't know. You tell me, why have you come here, director?"

"Stop playing games, Loki, and just say what you want" interrupted Captain America. He was wearing normal clothes, not that assault against good taste he called costume. One could not take him seriously wearing that.

"It's not what I want to rather than what I am forced to ask" I answered, trying to look tired. "I want to know why SHIELD is working with Amora."

"The Enchantress?" Steve inquired. "How could you know—"

"I have my sources" I replied mysteriously.

"I told him" said Thor at the same time. _The fool couldn't just keep his mouth shut, now could he?_

I glared at him and he twitched in the spot.

"Anyway, I wish to know why" I repeated.

"She's useful" Fury answered vaguely.

"I figured out that much on my own, thanks.” I smiled at the man unpleasantly. “ _How_ exactly is she useful?"

"She has understanding of magic none of us possess. And when you left so suddenly, brother, we feared…" Thor trailed off, unsure at the silence of the room.

Oh.

_Oh._

So it was about me. They _feared_ me, what I would do since I wasn't under their constant surveillance.

I felt powerful and dangerous, but also betrayed. They thought I would do anything? After everything that had happened? They fully knew I wasn't quite myself during the attack on New York, but still, there had been plenty of time for them to realise I wasn't that reckless psychopath.

"You fear what I will do. You fear _me_." I smirked. "So you seek the pitiful aid of a disgraced sorceress. Charming."

I walked around the room, slowly circling them. I paused in front of Stark.

"Because your readings and analysis of my magic weren't enough. Because apparently you can sleep with me but not trust me" I accused, piercing the man with my gaze, and he swallowed.

"That is unfair" said a female voice from behind me. I turned, irritated by the interruption, and saw Stark's assistant looking directly at me.

"I'm sorry, are you an Avenger now, do you work for SHIELD or…?"

"I live here."

"And why would you live…?" I stopped and glanced at Stark, who was looking anywhere but me. I noticed he had covered the hickeys from before with makeup.

"Do you have something to tell me, Anthony?" I asked, my voice silky and sharp, carrying the promise of pain.

 

* * *

 

I didn't know the place as well as I would like to to feel comfortable with entering here, but I did have approximate knowledge of its blueprint. After my magic had been restored, and fearing an intervention from SHIELD, I had infiltrated a couple of times in case I was locked here somehow. Wouldn't hurt to know the enemy's lair a little but, now would it?

But the events on the other side were not making it easy to fully concentrate on not getting lost in the SHIELD facility. This place was built like a labyrinth, with its long corridors and unknown order.

"Make me a sign if you see any cameras" I asked John. He wouldn't be able to see the guards before I sensed them, but maybe he saw a camera I had overlooked.

"Isn't it easier to make ourselves invisible or undetectable or something instead of breaking every camera? And what if they see us before you alter their records?" the soldier wanted to know. He had surely picked up Sherlock's fondness for annoying questions.

"We _are_ cloaked. But I regrettably agreed to help SHIELD develop a better security system against magic a while ago" I admitted. He looked horrified at that and was starting to panic. I chuckled, trying not to make a lot of noise. "Don't worry, doctor, for I haven't said my assistance was completely helpful. I left some magical blind spots in case that I needed to infiltrate here. Like now."

He relaxed and we continued walking in silence for some more. We found two passing agents and three cameras, which I manipulated easily.

"There is another one there" John pointed out. I had already seen it, but I had yet to alter its records.

"I know." I made a pause and saw the opportunity to get information from this mortal too. "Thanks, though."

He looked confused for a moment, but didn't say anything. Bad approach.

_Let's try again._

"I mean, I have already seen it, you weak mortal. Do you think I'm blind?"

Oh yes. That was it. First show vulnerability and then mask it, reaffirming that vulnerability and creating empathy.

He was going to reply but I grabbed his arm and pushed him into a dark corner, covering his mouth.

A woman in the characteristic uniform of SHIELD was chatting with a man, who was carrying a tray with food and a bottle of water.

"Do you know who he is?" asked the woman.

"No idea, but he's been here what, ten days? Two weeks? And the director and agent Romanoff have visited him almost every day" commented the other. At that I started paying attention to their conversation.

"But he's not dangerous, or we would have been warned."

"I heard it was Fury who brought him food until today."

"Rose is going to be green with envy when I tell her we've seen the prisoner."

The two of them disappeared around a corner and I released John to go after them.

 

* * *

 

"Erh, I… Loki, you were away… I didn't know if you had switched back to evil… And it just… happened?" he stuttered.

"A month, Stark, a _month_. You couldn't bear a month without running back to your always ready to please whore?" I snapped.

"Don't you dare call Pepper a whore" Stark said, now serious.

"Oh, so you're defending her now. But will she defend _you_ if I tell her what we just did?" Fear glinted in his eyes. He was almost pleading. I drew pleasure from that as I turned and looked the woman straight into her eyes. "Because we just had sex. Tony was screaming my name, not yours; he's climaxed in me, not in you. _I_ was the one to make him beg for more, the one to leave the marks on his neck he has covered to your sight. Tell me, how many times has he been unfaithful already?" I asked wickedly. She glanced worriedly at Stark, who was looking miserable.

"Hey, we're not here to discuss Tony's private life" Steve interrupted.

"Yes, I almost forgot. We're here to talk about how _evil_ I am, how I have betrayed the flawless heroes" I mocked. "Oh, Loki is _so_ bad, and I'm so good and perfect because I'm an Avenger and occasionally I save people."

"You did try to destroy the Earth" Natasha commented.

I rolled my eyes. Always with the _destroy Midgard._

"I wanted to rule Midgard, not destroy it" I repeated for the millionth time. "But I won't claim innocence for my deeds. And neither should you."

"We have no blame for your actions" Steve defended.

"Are you sure about that?" I enquired, gazing at Clint intentionally. The man looked ashamed. "What about Clint? Have you punished him? Because I've been in this Tower for the last year and I haven't seen the minimal sign of it."

"He was under your mind control!" Natasha shouted. She didn't usually scream or voice her emotions so clearly, but when she did, it was because of agent Barton.

"So was I!" I answered even louder. "And yet I was stripped away of my magic, my very being, and sent here to live amongst mortals who were not better than my guards in Asgard!"

"We didn't harm you" Tony said quietly, but I heard him.

"Don't you dare say that, because you did. I did not sleep for three weeks right after I arrived. I was barely allowed to eat. I could do nothing all day but get frustrated and stare at the ceiling." _I was at your mercy._

Stark remained silent, his face expressionless. But I wasn't done yet.

"Why, please tell me, do you think I started to sleep with you in the first place? You had treated me like nothing more than a slave." His expression morphed, an instinctive denial blossoming across his features. "I saw an opportunity with you and took it. Because I thought that would improve my situation, my despicable condition."

At that point all colour had left his face.

 

* * *

 

I followed the agents on their way down, until they stopped in front of a black armoured door. The woman swiped her ID card and the door opened. They stepped inside and the door closed behind them with a soft thud.

I hid behind some crates and a moment later John arrived to my side.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked.

"Quiet" I hissed. "We are waiting for the two agents to come out."

He didn't reply.

"So" I started out of the blue. "How long have you known Sherlock?"

“About two years now." He burrowed his brow. "Why?"

"And you've been together all that time? That's impressive, given everything" I observed.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone of Sherlock's intellect usually gets bored really fast. And you are not that interesting." He glared at me, or at least what he thought was a glare. "Besides, you're not easy to put up with."

"That I'm not…?" He huffed. "Sherlock is the one hard to bear."

"Really? I guess you are the only one with that opinion. But you are also who knows him best, aren't you?"

"Firstly, I'm not the only one who thinks Sherlock is hard to put up with. By far. Everyone says so!" I gave him a warning look and he lowered his tone. "He plays violin at 3 am, by God's sake. And keeps heads in the fridge. Do you have any idea of how many times I have found severed body parts where there should be food?"

I gave him another look and returned to stare at the black door.

"You didn't tell me if you were the real or not."

"I told you" I defended myself. "It's not my fault you didn't get it."

"Stop it, I want to know."

"Of course you do." I kept quiet for a moment. "Okay, if it serves to prevent you from talking anymore."

"Deal."

"This body is an illusion. But not for that is less real than the Loki on the Avengers Tower" I explained. "I feel everything that's happening here, and everything that's happening there."

"Oh. And why this is the copy, and not the real?" John wanted to know.

"Natasha would know I am an illusion if that was who were in the tower. Magic doesn't have smell, real people do." I shrugged. "Besides, this is more dangerous than speaking with the Avengers."

"Great."

The door opened again and both of the agents stepped out before going back up, chattering about how annoying the prisoner was, with his _deductions_. But at least he had cool blue eyes, according to the woman.

Definitely Sherlock.

 

* * *

 

"You can't be serious" Tony said.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" I asked in return, looking at him with cold green eyes. "I was _desperate_ , Tony."

I turned my back to him to face the rest of the group.

"Cease to work with that pathetic creature called Amora and I shall return" I announced. "If you don't, I'm afraid I will be forced to kill her."

"Why? Because you don't like her?" Clint asked.

"Because Amora is a nuisance at best, but with access to SHIELD technology, she will become more powerful, and she'll betray you" I warned, my eyes not leaving his. "She is not of the good ones."

I despised that terminology, _bad_ and _good_ , as if you could define someone with such a simple word, but it was the only one their thick skulls would understand.

"And we should believe you because _you_ are good" Clint replied.

"No, and that's exactly why you should believe me. I am neither good nor bad. I only play for myself" I explained.

"You can't just ask us to abandon an ally" said Steve. Oh, the ever-present justice poster boy.

"You won't _abandon_ her. You'll just break your agreement. Whatever agreement you have." I thought about it for a moment. "What agreement do you have? What does she get out of this?"

Amora would always get something in exchange; if not, she wouldn't move a finger in the first place. There had to be something she wanted, something she could win.

"That's none of your fucking business" Fury interrupted.

"Well, director Fury, it is. It affects me, both as a sorcerer and as an acquaintance of your little group of misfits."

He answered something I paid no attention to, but it probably was something unhelpful containing motherfucker or some other word of the sorts. I was too caught up in the other body's sensations inside the SHIELD facility. It was time.

"Stop this gibberish" I commanded. "Consider my offer while I'm away. Always a pleasure to fuck you, Tony." I beamed a smile and teleported out.

 

* * *

 

I moved closer and after checking there were no more agents coming, I inspected the door. A simple keypad and a slot to pass the card. Geez, it would be easier to destroy the door itself.

I touched the black metal, testing its alloy. Then I tapped it twice, before tracing a circle with my fingertips on the cold surface, big enough for me to pass through it. It vanished, and I peeked inside.

There he was, his back to me, sitting on the centre of the room, the food discarded on a corner. I entered the room silently, the hole I had just made closing behind me, and approached him.

"Glaring at your food won't make it disappear." He turned suddenly. "Hello, Sherlock. Pleased to see me?" I asked, tilting my head to the side while smiling mischievously.

"Not surprised" he answered.

"Sure." I made a pause to look at him properly. "They’ve done no harm, have they?"

"No, I just made fun of their passive aggressive interrogation techniques" Sherlock mocked.

"Good then. I'll just get rid of a soldier about to come and we can go."

I smiled and turned to leave.

"Go where?" the detective inquired.

"So eager to know, my little Sherlock. You'll see."

I disappeared through the hole I had created again, where John waited with a frown.

"Well? Is he in there?" he asked.

"He is."

"Then let's go, shall we?"

"Oh" I said, as if I had just realised it. "You didn't know? Well, I'm afraid you are not coming."

He looked in shock.

"What? Don't give me that crap, Loki. Let's go."

"I would say I'm sorry, but that would be lying. Besides, it would do nothing but add to my reputation" I commented.

He saw the blade flash just before I took a quick step forward and stabbed him in the abdomen, fear tainting his features as realisation dawned on him of what I was about to do. John shook and I hold him.

"I told you it was dangerous" I whispered into his ear, before I let him go.

He fell to his knees, the irony of having him at my feet, kneeling before me, not going unnoticed.

I suppressed a chuckle as I looked at the man for a moment more. Then I went back into the black room, where Sherlock awaited. He raised an eyebrow at the blood on my hands and clothes.

"Ready to go, Sherlock?" I asked, offering him my hand to get up.

"Of course I am" he answered, looking insulted and taking it. "Where to?"

"Shut up and observe it by yourself."

A moment later there was no one inside the prison.


	30. The One Who Prompts Him To Deduce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am late, don't kill me. But my wifi broke and the Internet company's guys have taken ages to fix it. Blame them, not me! I am the victim here!

I took the hand he was offering me to get up and a moment later he teleported us. I felt that characteristic tug in my stomach, but managed to land on my feet.

When I looked around, I only saw darkness. The only light came from the tip of Loki's finger, who was standing a mere metre away from me.

"So, where are we?" I repeated.

"I told you to deduce it, my dear." He grinned. "It'll be fun. Let's see how much time it takes you."

I looked around again, this time paying more attention to any detail that may be of use. It was cold. When we talked the voice created echo. The air was damp and humid. The flickering green flame that was the only source of light revealed a low ceiling made of irregular stone. All of these were pointers to a cave. Where this cave was was a trickier question. Loki had been here before, as he needed to imagine the destination in order to teleport. But when? He said he had barely left the Avengers Tower in the last year, so it must have been in one of his previous visits. Somewhere in Scandinavia, then. That's where the presence of the god had caused the biggest influence.

If the time was anything to go by, this one was almost the same distance as our first trip between London and New York, maybe a little more.

"A cave somewhere in Scandinavia" I declared. "I thought you more imaginative."

"And I thought you were smarter than to get caught even after I warned you" he answered. "But I'm glad to see your deductive skills haven't been diminished by your confinement."

Then, without any warning, he turned and started walking. I raised an eyebrow but followed him, sceptic. Being alone in the dark in whatever place this was was not precisely an idyllic plan.

"Mind telling me where are we going now?" I demanded to know. "And don't give me the whole _you'll see, Sherlock_."

"But you will. You will see." I threw daggers at him with my gaze, but he brushed it off and laughed. He actually _laughed_ at my discomfort. "Alright, you'll know before you see. There's a cottage near the entrance of the cave. I was there the last time I set foot in this Realm. It shouldn't be in such a bad state."

"Well, that depends on where that last time was."

"A century or two. Don't get so altered, I built it with magic. It won't be rundown" Loki explained.

"The last time you came was to try to free your children? Jörmungandr was here on Earth" I observed sharply.

He stopped for a moment, but didn't turn to face me. A second later, and not having said anything at all, Loki continued walking.

"Do you plan on hiding here until the Avengers stop looking for you?" I asked, irritated.

"Well, yes, at least until I have a plan" he answered, his voice distorted by the echo of the walls.

"A plan for what? Retrieving your precious magical objects or getting back your life as a pet?"

He stopped again, but this time he did turn around. His eyes were burning with rage, but I didn't waver.

"You seem to be under the impression that you have the power to talk to me in such a manner" he commented, taking a step closer to me.

The green fire, focused on his fingertip before, had now extended to his whole hand. The flames licked the hem of his sleeve, doing no harm at all. Still, I could sense the heat it gave off.

I eyed him, trying to look not impressed at all.

"You say that, but all I see is a man running."

"All you see is a man _surviving_ " he hissed. "I do not intend to take part in a war without a plan. Sorry, darling, but I'm not the berserker type."

Without giving me the time for answering, he continued waking once more, finishing the conversation.

I didn't try to push it further, because it wouldn't grant me any answers. Instead, I observed the fire in his hand dimming as he calmed down. It was mesmerising.

We reached the entrance of the cave, and Loki turned left without even checking if I was following.

"Why did you teleport us into the cave and not directly into the cottage?" I asked.

"Silly human. Because I don't want to be found, obviously."

"They'll track your magic anyway" I observed. He gave me a look. _Oh_. It was obvious. "Unless they can't, because of the mountain. They use satellites, so caves and underground places are out of their reach."

Loki nodded. Then he pointed somewhere in the woods.

"It's there, half a kilometre or so in that direction." He looked at the sky. "It'll be night soon, we must hurry."

The walk to the construction happened in silence. We arrived half an hour later. It was definitely more than five hundred metres; I suspected the god didn't want any complaints. The ground was uneven, sharp rocks and roots protruding from it, ready to make me trip and fall. Not him, though; Loki seemed to slide between them. That, or the treacherous roots moved away from him, which would be possible due to the god’s magic.

As Loki had assured me, the cottage wasn't rundown. It just wasn't. At all. There was no building. Just some mossy rocks and ferns; that's all there was where he was pointing.

"Not rundown, uh?" I huffed, a cloud of steam rising from my mouth. "I can suggest somewhere we can go, which I _know_ is there. It's freezing here."

"I said not rundown. It's not" Loki answered enigmatically.

The god walked up to one of the stones, picked it up and closed his eyes, holding it at his face’s height. The rock started shining with a beautiful pattern.

He put it back down and all the surrounding stones started glimmering the same way. The pattern looked like runes, and they changed colours; red, yellow, green, blue, purple.

Then they started moving, shaking the earth and moss off. In less than a minute, a tiny, not rundown cottage appeared.

"Not rundown" I admitted. Loki held the door open for me with a smug smile. "Still, it's quite small."

That only made Loki widen his smile. As soon as I stepped inside I knew why.

"It's bigger on the inside" I breathed, stating the obvious. "More of your magic?"

"Technology" he corrected. "From a friend of mine."

I looked around. The external appearance was no bigger than my kitchen at 221B, but on the inside it was more like a mansion. There were stairs leading up and down, and several other rooms in this floor.

I passed a finger across a table. No dust.

"So what did you learn?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"The Avengers. What did they tell you? Did you learn anything? After a month away they must have news."

"How did you know I talked to them?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, suspicious.

"SHIELD is mostly useless, as all the government agencies are, but they do like security. You needed a distraction to get to me, and what better than presenting yourself in the Tower and forcing the Avengers and surely Fury to pay attention to you?" I explained. "Meanwhile, you could send a lovely clone or projection to me."

"Is that so? Why would you think I would send a clone to you, Sherlock? You deserve the best." He tilted his head mockingly.

"It was obvious." I rolled my eyes, but I liked this. He was prompting me to talk, to deduce. Not many people did that. "You didn't have any smell, and your shadow was vaguer than it should."

"I see."

When he didn't add anything, I continued.

"So, what did they tell you? Anything relevant?" I pushed.

"I was right about who was the one who told them about my heritage and past. Amora." Loki looked at me for a moment before continuing. "She's an Asgardian sorceress, but she's exiled. She was banished for her crimes against the realm." _Like me,_ was the unspoken sentence.

"But her magic wasn't taken from her like yours?" I asked.

"No, it wasn't. Her crimes didn't require a punishment as harsh as mine" Loki answered, but the pain and bitterness were clear in his voice. He made a pause before sighing and looking up at me. "She is now working with the Avengers and SHIELD. Her knowledge of magic are _useful_ , it seems."

"But you fear she wants access to more power for some plan? SHIELD would definitely be one of my top choices if I wanted advanced technology" I observed.

Loki nodded in agreement.

"Anything of use in Midgard is kept by them. And by the British government. I don't know what she plans to do, but I will find out."

"We should pay her a visit" I proposed. "You can locate her, can't you? I guess you're a better magician than she is."

"I am, of course." Loki almost looked offended. "And we will, but not yet. She has now her guard up. No, we must wait some time until everything calms down a bit."

"More waiting. Great" I grumbled.

"I can offer you some quality time if you're bored, my dear Sherlock." Loki grinned cheekily, licking his lips unconsciously.

"I think I'll pass, thank you" I replied, still not used to his flirting.

"Your loss." He shrugged, but I caught a glimpse of something. A new wound.

"Anything else happened? With any of the Avengers? Stark, maybe?"

He huffed and licked his lips again.

"I don't know how you know these things." The god paused. "It's over. He and I, it's finished. He is now back with his very own little whore."

"I'm sorry to hear that. But she's not a whore for being with him. Maybe she likes him."

"But he was with me and she took him from me! Tony Stark was mine, she has no claim over him" he growled.

"I am with John and yet here you are" I observed.

"That's not a good comparison. I wouldn't do anything you didn't want me to. I am not a savage."

"And maybe she didn't do anything he didn't want her to."

"That's not my point."

"Then which is it?"

Loki only mumbled something unintelligible and went towards one of the doors leading to others rooms.

"It's late. You should sleep" he said before closing the door behind him.

But I was too restless to sleep just yet.


	31. Egotistical, Flawed & Broken.

Nightmares woke me up. It was still dawn, but I couldn't go back to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the darkness, the void, and I felt claustrophobic. So I lay in bed for some hours, staring blankly at the ceiling as the sun rose. When I felt like there was no point in staying in bed anymore, I got up. The sun had already been up for some hours.

I found Sherlock in the very same position I had left him last night. But asleep. Mortals needed to sleep more than I or any Asgardian did. I wasn't keeping tabs or anything but Sherlock slept less than average, and at odd hours. I was glad to see he was getting some sleep.

I walked soundlessly towards the larder, and searched for something to eat. I felt like something sweet to make up for yesterday’s bitterness.

I heard Sherlock shifting on the sofa, before his breathing changed, sign of him being awake now. I took a jar of cookies and went out.

"Cookies" the man stated. "I never thought you would have real food here."

"I thought of every possibility when I made this. There are several reasons why I would need food. Company, although not probable, was one. The likelier was me being too weak to perform any magic" I explained, taking a bite of one of the cookies.

Sherlock eyed it for a moment, before lifting his gaze to meet mine.

"Answer me something."

"About what?" I replied.

"Magic." I shrugged without committing, and he continued. "It follows the laws of physics. It must. Everything does."

"It does. Sometimes." I licked my lips, thinking of how to explain it. "Magic is alive. It's somewhat conscious. There are no laws applicable to the living mind."

Sherlock furrowed his brow, taking the new information in.

"Do you want a cookie?" I offered. He looked hungry, and he couldn't have eaten well in the past few weeks. I definitely didn't when I was locked.

Sherlock reached out and took it before nibbling at it.

"Are you alright?" I asked, referring to his confinement.

"Why wouldn't I be alright?" he replied more sharply than probably intended.

"You've just been prisoner of the big mean SHIELD. I was just concerned." I _was_ concerned, but I wanted to know what he had told them about me. _How much do SHIELD or the Avengers know?_

"What are you, my mum?" He glared at me and I hold his gaze unwaveringly. "I'm fine."

"They interrogated you. Agent Romanoff did. Are you sure you're _fine_?" I insisted.

"Oh, that's what you want to know. What I told them" the detective realised, more quickly than I had expected.

"Alright, you caught me. I’m guilty of wanting to protect myself" I admitted. There was no point in denying it. I leant forwards to get closer to him; uncomfortably close. "So, what did you told them?"

"I said nothing about you, Loki" he replied. "Just that I knew you. No, I didn't even say that. But they must have extrapolated it."

"Then? Why didn't they do anything?" I blinked in confusion.

"Because I was bargaining." I opened my mouth to retort, but he raised his hand to continue. "For our safety."

"What did you do, fool?" I roared, getting even closer, until my face was mere centimetres from his.

"Try to save you" Sherlock answered, squinting lightly but otherwise unfazed. "And myself, obviously" he added.

"What did you tell them?" I repeated slowly, with as much calm as I could muster.

"Nothing of your concern" he replied. "Just information about a common enemy."

"That could as well be me" I observed.

"Can't you just trust me in this? It's not you."

"Then who is him? Or her?" I demanded, growing impatient with this conversation.

"You don't want to know him."

A name was in my head, but I didn't want to reveal my suspicions yet.

_Jim Moriarty._

"I need to know about him, if he's an enemy of SHIELD. I need all the information and tools at my disposal."

"What for? To try to take over the world again?" he spat the words like venom. "Yeah, because we already know how well that went last time."

"To protect myself." I took a deep breath, calming down and continuing with a more quiet voice. "Knowledge is power, Sherlock. I'm just making sure I am not defenceless against my enemies."

I started at him for a long moment, studying his features, searching for any sign of surrender.

"Moriarty" Sherlock confessed at last in a hushed voice. I almost couldn't hear him. _Why does he say it so carefully? What happened to cocky, egocentric Sherlock? Has their history had such an impact on Sherlock?_

"Jim Moriarty?" I asked. What a stupid question. Of course it was Jim. "I know him."

"From your bad boy shenanigans, I assume. Hardly surprising. Then you know how untrustworthy he is. Well, hopefully he'll be captured soon."

"He'll escape in no time" I warned.

"I know that, but it will buy us time, and he will be in prison in the meanwhile. It's a win whichever way you look at it."

"A distraction" I summed up.

"Yes. That way we'll have time to find your things. The staff and the helmet."

I widened my eyes. I had almost forgotten about them. Now that I knew Amora was up to something… The objects seemed insignificant. I could still perform magic without them, but I couldn't go back to the Tower, to Tony; no, I couldn't go back to Stark anyway. After what I had confessed the day before, I doubted he would want to even see me again.

_I can't go back._

That realisation hit me hard.

I saw Sherlock narrow his eyes, but he said nothing. I took a deep breath and composed myself in a moment.

"I expect you to be up to your reputation, Sherlock" I simply said, and turned to leave. I wanted some time alone.

"Where's John, by the way? I should let him know I'm alright. He must be worried" he asked before I got to the door.

"I don't know where he is. I haven't contacted him for over a week." I tilted my head, as if thinking about something. "Now that I think about it, when were you kidnapped?"

"The day after you left." Sherlock furrowed his brow, following the same line of thought as me. "When exactly did you speak to him? And what did he say?"

"A week after I left you. But he forgot to mention you were kidnapped, for one thing" I said, disbelief tainting my voice.

"Why didn't you call me? With the mental link it would be easier, right?" Sherlock asked.

"I… overestimated the range of it. I couldn't reach you from that far. So I tried with him. Via mobile phone" I explained. I wasn't technically lying; I couldn't reach him and I talked to John with a phone. Sherlock shouldn't be able to detect the hidden lie. "I didn't know your number, so I had to settle with your entertainment. He told me everything was fine, that the both of you had escaped and were safe. If I had known… If I had the slightest suspicion that you were in danger, I would have rescued you much sooner."

"Maybe John was being threatened?" Sherlock made a pause, lost in thought. "No, he would have found a way to tell you that. He may be my entertainment, as you like to call him, but he's not an idiot. Still, how did you know what had happened to me then?"

"I talked to John, and he assured me everything was fine, so I let it go. I supposed some time away from this madness would do you good. Then, four days or so later, I tried to contact _you_ , but the locator spell I used didn't make any sense. SHIELD has a way of shielding itself —no pun intended— against magic, so you had to be either in their hands or in another realm. The latter didn't seem probable, though."

Sherlock said nothing, just stared at me, slowly spacing out. I didn't have long until he had slipped into that mind palace of his.

"I don't want to be the one who says this, but… Have you thought, that maybe, John told SHIELD where to find you? That he is working for someone?" I licked my lips; Sherlock had focused his gaze on me once more. "I mean, it would make sense. If he were receiving orders, everything he has done lately would make sense. Maybe even things from before, things that wouldn't be completely credible or common." _Like loving you, Sherlock. Because all your life you didn't find a single person capable of that._

"And who would he be working for? SHIELD?" Sherlock asked, even though I was sure he already knew the answer I would provide wasn't that.

"No. Moriarty. That's the only thing that makes sense. Think about it: he was geographically close, and if he wanted to control you, John would be the fastest and easiest way. You wouldn't even notice, as infatuated as you were with the man."

Sherlock widened his eyes in doubt and fear. He had clearly not thought about that possibility, or he had not dared to think about it. It was false, obviously, I had made it up, but he didn't know that. He only knew it made sense. He had finally found an explanation for why John loved him, why he put up with him. Because he didn't understand why someone like John loved someone like him.

_Such a big ego, Sherlock, always hides a flawed and broken inside. I would know, my darling._

The man had fallen silent, staring into the empty space in front of him, completely absorbed by it. I left the room soundlessly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts. They had to be running by then.

That was it. The seed of doubt was already planted. The more Sherlock thought about it, the more he analysed it, the more he would doubt John. The more he would believe my story. And if Sherlock did one thing, that was thinking.

Without him noticing, he would rely on me, he would trust me.

And then Sherlock would be at my mercy.


	32. The One  Who Confesses

A month went by, the time slipping between my fingers like water I couldn't stop. A second passed, and it was gone, rapidly being replaced by another. They wouldn't be back, but the endless stream of seconds continued coming, one at a time, slowly sometimes, quickly others.

Loki spent most of his time reading, at first, and meditating, but when the food started to run out, around the third week or so, he started hunting in the woods around the cottage.

_How can he not think of having enough food for a month at least? Even if he needs less food than a human._

I, on the other hand, was bored to death. I had tried reading one of Loki's books, but it was written in a language I didn't understand, and the god had only suppressed a chuckle when he saw me trying to decipher it. So I left it. He didn’t seem keen on teaching me.

He was bored too, I could see it.

That's one of the main reasons why we had started talking. We had been talking before, obviously, but now we _talked_.

One night of the second week, I had found him sitting outside, looking at the sky. It was freezing cold, but he was only wearing a light cotton shirt and trousers. I didn't have anything else to do, so I approached him and sat by his side silently, trying to see what he saw.

After some minutes in silence, Loki had started talking. I didn't interrupt him, because I could sense that that would make him stop altogether. That night, he told me about the stars, how they were different from those in Asgard. How, when he was a boy, his mother had taught him how to read them, how to use them as a guide.

From there, he talked about Frigga, his mother, who was not his biological one but the only one that mattered. Loki loved his mother greatly, that much was as clear as the sky. He loved her in a way he didn't love anyone else; there was a fondness in his voice that wasn't there when he talked about Thor or Stark.

And he missed her. Loki missed her so much, it was almost painful to hear.

After that night, it became a kind of tradition. Every night after that one, we would sit outside, looking up at the night sky, and we would confess. They weren't confessions as such, but they did have that aura of untold stories.

He told me about his childhood, when everything was easier and he was happier. About his children, how he had started to see Odin's self-righteousness when he took them away. Loki also shared memories of his darkest hours; his spiral into madness when he discovered what he really was, Odin's lies, his intentions to use Loki as a tool, his trying to destroy Jötunheim to prove himself worthy, his downfall, his return to Midgard, his defeat, his punishment. I knew he hadn't told me everything, and I understood, because even when we confess there are secrets too horrible to be spoken.

I told him things too. My own childhood, away from my cold parents, sent to boarding school since a young age. The bullying, the drugs. They kept my mind from running, they slowed down the world. It was easier to think. Then how I came across some old cases and solved them. I used my skills for something; they were not useless, a burden. I started solving more and more cases; I became a detective, but a consultant detective, not one of those stupid ones whose biggest job is to take some photos of an unfaithful wife or husband. How John came into my life, how he gave sense to all of those sayings about love I had never understood before. I left out the parts about Moriarty, though. He had left things out too, and I wasn't prepared yet to explain the depth of the scars Moriarty had left in me.

I had fewer things to say, because my life had been shorter, but he listened attentively to my every word, not making any comment. Just listening to our confessions.

It was an outlet, saying all those things out loud. A release. I knew he wouldn't judge me and I wasn't going to judge him either. Telling Loki about my life and him telling me about his, it made us closer. I understood him a in a way my deductions could never achieve.

______________________________________________________________________

One morning, a month after we arrived, Loki announced it was about time we paid Amora a visit.

"Maybe a month is not a long time. If she's Asgardian, her life span must be longer, and time won't be perceived the same way" I argued.

"She's been enough time around mortals as to have views close enough to yours about time" Loki explained. "Still, it won't be easy. As you've said, a month is not a long time. But we can't wait any longer."

He turned to leave, but turned again to look at me, hesitant.

"You can stay here, if you don't wish to come."

"Why would I want that?" I asked, irritated. Did he think I would be a burden? I might be human, but I can take care of myself. "I'm going. Let's go."

I reached out to grab his arm, for him to be able to teleport us both. It was about time we got out of here. I was dying of boredom.

"We must go to the cave first. They'll track my magic otherwise" Loki said. He tensed lightly under my touch, but tried to hide it.

"Or we can leave from here and go somewhere else afterwards" I suggested.

"I'm not taking any chances."

Loki started walking, and I followed. The god led the way, even though I remembered most of the path from our previous trip. This time we arrived to the entrance of the cave in less time, mainly because it was midday and not dusk.

Once inside, Loki lit up his finger in that characteristic green flame, but I suspected he could see in the dark just fine. Then, he suddenly grabbed me and pulled me close to him before teleporting.

We appeared inside a luxurious attic in New York. One of the walls was entirely made of glass. The furniture was expensive, classy. Picked to show status rather than for comfort.

There was a woman, presumably Amora, lying on the sofa while eyeing distractedly a magazine. She hadn't noticed us.

Loki stalked her and snapped his fingers when he was just behind the blonde. The magazine she was holding disappeared and Amora turned, alarmed by the sound of Loki's movement.

"I believe you and I have a pending conversation, dear" Loki said, voice as silky as dangerous. He was grinning, showing all his teeth; that was never a good sign.

Amora took a couple of seconds to compose herself.

"If it isn't Loki. What dark hole you were hiding in this time?" she replied, blatantly ignoring Loki's prompt.

"One much brighter than your future life."

"Don't get over dramatic, Loki." She made a pause as examined carefully her manicured nails. "What do you want?" she added, trying to look uninterested.

"You know what I want."

"Maybe I don't. Please enlighten me" Amora replied, smiling, full of fake innocence.

"Don't play fool with me, Enchantress" Loki snarled. "What do you get out of this deal with the Avengers?"

"Oh, that" she said nonchalantly. "Just their delightful company. You would know."

She was brave, I had to admit that. Mocking Loki like that. But it was mostly front; I could see her tense posture, despite her nonchalant words. She was on alert; there was clearly history between the two of them.

"You wouldn't move a single muscle if you didn't get something out of this." Loki was smart enough to avoid the argument. "So stop denying it, Amora."

"Are you trying to protect your little Avengers, Loki?" the woman asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Oh please" Loki dismissed it, "who do you think I am? I'm protecting myself."

Amora got up from the sofa, to be at the same level as Loki. Then she got really close to him before speaking again.

"Then take this advice; don't get in my way, and you'll have a better chance at surviving." She posed her eyes on me for the first time, and her expression morphed to that if she had seen a nasty cockroach. "Well, even your little mortal pet may make it through."

"I am no one's pet" I complained, as Loki reached out to grab the Enchantress's neck and lift her up.

She struggled to break free of Loki's vice like grip, but the lack of air seemed to importunate her rather than choke her.

"You may not survive, though" Loki stated. "You have to achieve that; the privilege of living."

"You'll need more than this." Amora laughed in his face.

"What about we add a hand in your heart to the equation?" Fear glinted in his eyes for a fraction of second before being replaced by sheer amusement.

"Your argument with Anthony Stark hurt you and now you're taking it out on me. Classy as ever, Loki" she taunted, trying to mask her fear. "But you don't have it in you to kill me. This last year has made you _weak_."

"Do you find this entertaining? I would assure you I will do it, but you already know that" Loki answered matter-of-factly, blatantly ignoring the blonde's desperate remark.

Loki reached out for Amora's chest and she twitched, making a vain attempt at trying to get away from it. Getting her heart literally ripped out of her chest would probably kill her, but even if it didn't, it would hurt really badly.

"Technology" she spat. Loki narrowed his eyes and went again for Amora's chest. He was smiling viciously. It was terrifying.

"Tell me something I don't know. What technology?" Loki asked. "And what else?"

The Enchantress didn't answer, and the god tightened his grip around the woman's neck.

"Technology to travel between Realms" she breathed at last.

"I'm running out of patience, dear. What else?" the God of Mischief repeated slowly.

"Information… And power. He will grant me power for information." Amora was smiling now, the dreamy smile of a teenager in love.

"He? Who is _he_?" I couldn't help but to ask.

She looked at me but didn't deem necessary a reply, just a snarl.

"Sherlock" Loki said, warning me to let him handle the situation. As Hell I was going to let him do it all. But still, I didn't have her fear or respect, and there was this little inconvenience of me being mortal and therefore having mortal strength that wasn't going to be on my favour.

"Sherlock?" The Enchantress asked, widening her eyes. "You're Sherlock? _The_ Sherlock? He talks about you. I can't believe this. He talks about you _a lot_. He sends his regards."

"Who?" I asked again. It was Moriarty. Who else could it be? But I needed her confirmation, and to make her feel like she was in control of everything. Then she would become arrogant and that would be her downfall, and our victory.

"I don't know his name. Just that he's smart, and deliciously evil." She closed her eyes, delighting in the memory.

Loki huffed.

"You are not that stupid as to trust someone without knowing who they are."

"He showed me his influence, his power. He made an entire nation collapse in a matter of days" Amora defended.

"What does he want the technology for? And what kind of information do you collect?" I asked, even though it was mostly obvious, I was hoping she would give details.

"To travel between Realms, I suppose. He doesn't tell me anything. And he requests personal information about the Avengers and agents of SHIELD. I just give it to him, but I know nothing else" Amora answered dutifully, a note of plea in her voice. I checked her face for any sign, but she wasn't lying.

"She's useless. She knows nothing of use" I told Loki, earning a glare from the sorceress.

He nodded and looked back at the woman, before tossing her against the wall like a doll. She fell with a thud and stayed still, a hole in the wall where she had just hit.

"Don't kill her just yet; it would raise suspicions" I warned Loki, who was already going towards her.

"I know; I won't." He walked up to her and used his foot to turn her over to see her face. "Enchantress. Enchantress!" he called, tapping her with his boot on the side.

She shook and opened her eyes. There was an thread of blood running down her temple.

"You say anything about this little party of ours, to anyone, and I kill you, inconvenient or not."

Loki turned his back in a clear act of arrogance and disrespect. Loki had been raised in a warrior society; he knew you don't turn your back to the enemy. Ever.

"Now run with this new pet of yours! Knowing that Anthony abandoned you, chose his _secretary_ over you, a weak mortal over a god" she mocked, barely being able to raise her upper part of the body from the floor. "They are so happy together; happier than you two ever were! He didn't even love you, Loki. No one will ever love you. Anthony was glad to get rid of you, all the Avengers were. You are nothing more than a nuisance. Everyone abandons you, because you are a monster and you don't deserve to be loved. You would be better off dead! So do us all a favour and end your life already!"

Loki arrived to my side and gripped my arm with way more strength than necessary before teleporting back to the cave.

As soon as we landed, he burst out crying.


	33. Soft, Tender & Slow

I didn't even know why I was crying. I didn't care about Amora, her words should have no effect on me. Yet they had, because I could see the truth in them. I could see what everyone saw, what everyone thought. I heard her words in a million different voices, because they weren't her words only. They were everyone's. And it was killing me.

Sherlock was beside me, not sure of what to do. I hated this. I hated crying. I specially hated crying in front of people. It showed weakness, that you were vulnerable. And I hated that. I didn't want to seem weak or overly emotional.

But I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop myself from crying. I couldn't stop the tears streaming down my face.

But I had to. I was showing just how weak I am, what a miserable creature I am. I couldn't do that. I wouldn't _allow_ that.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. I evened my breathing and slowly my heart recovered its normal rate.

Without turning, I wiped the moisture off my face. I could do nothing about the redness of my eyes, but it would fade eventually.

Finally I got up and started walking, not giving Sherlock the chance to make up his mind about whether to do something or not.  The man was clearly not sure of what to be done in these situations.

Better. He wouldn't try to comfort me then.

He followed through the cave, clumsily and cautiously at first, stumbling with every stone in the way. He made some comments that sounded like complains, but I ignored them, until I realised he couldn't see in the dark. I lit up a rock and threw it at him, who dodged it surprisingly quickly. I sighed.

“It won't burn you, idiot.”

He reluctantly picked it up and held it in his hands, weighing it. I continued, leaving him to his musings. I walked more quickly than before, for he had a light to guide him now.

I reached the final stretch of the cave. I saw the light of the entrance and I hurried to reach it. But before I could exit the cave Sherlock got in front of me, blocking the path.

“Get out of my way” I hissed.

“What happened back there?” he asked directly. He didn’t need to ask, he already knew what had happened. He was asking because he wanted to hear it from me. The thought warmed me, but I was too agitated as to appreciate it.

“Nothing happened. Now, move.”

“You are obviously lying. Tell me, Loki.” I tried to walk past him, but he stayed still and reached out to touch both walls of the cave with his hands, blocking the way.

“I said move” I repeated menacingly.

He hesitated but finally moved aside, and I hurried out before he could stop me again.

“I am trying to understand you, Loki. So I know it wasn't nothing. What Amora said reminds you of everything you've doubted. You think everyone will abandon you, because everyone has done that so far. You think you are a monster, because you were raised to believe the Jötnar were monsters. You don't think you deserve to be loved, because you've made mistakes, horrible, unforgivable mistakes. And you don't want me, or anyone, to see you crying because you don't want to appear weak” said Sherlock, fully aware I could hear him even though I could not see him anymore. The entrance of the cave was now far gone, but those words weren't. They penetrated to my very core, because they held truth in them. _Am I that transparent? Am I that easy to read?_ Sherlock had got everything right. It was painfully true; they were things I hadn't consciously admitted to myself. They were things I preferred not to dwell on. Things to toss out to the darkest corner of my mind, where they could rot and poison the rest of my soul.

I clenched my fists as I suppressed a new wave of tears.

How dared he say all those things? Even if he knew them, he couldn't just go and say them. Out loud or in whispered thoughts, it matters not. Sherlock knew what Amora had said had affected me. He knew exactly _how_ and _why_ it had affected me.

I had told him my story, my life, and he had used that against me, knowing his words would hurt me.

I don't even know how I could have thought he would be any different from any of the men and women I had encountered before. Warriors, maidens, politicians. It was always the same. Everyone could be classified in one of those three groups. Warriors were brute and faced their problems with physical strength. The maidens thought the world would treat them kindly if they were nice. And politicians were more subtle than the warriors, but they manipulated way more to get what they wanted.

I foolishly thought it would be different this time. But it wasn't. I see it now. Sherlock would abandon me, he would think I wasn't worthy of his time. He probably already did. He just needed time to fully realise it. Then I would be alone again, as I had always been.

Because it was always the same. Because Sherlock was right.

Because I am a monster, and as soon as he saw that, he would run away, escape from me, leave me.

I reached the cottage, but suddenly it didn't seem like such a good destination. Sherlock would be there any moment, and another confrontation is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

So I kept walking into the woods. I would wait some time, enough for Sherlock to stop those nonsensical questions. He didn't care. How could he? He could see everything about me, he had seen right through me back there. He knew what I was, who I was. He couldn't like me after knowing the truth.

I looked up at some point and realised it was already dark. How long had I been wandering around? My breaths created steam and cold prodded my bare skin. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable, though. It was welcome. I liked the sensation. It wasn't cold enough to bring out my Jötunn blue, thank the Norns. I don't think I could have stood it. On the paper, I had accepted it; it was who I am, and I can't change it. But saying that and actually seeing the blue skin were two different things.

I inhaled deeply and headed back to the cottage. It was about time; probably Sherlock would have already understood I didn't want to discuss things like those.

There was no light on to be seen from the outside, but that didn't alarm me. It was made so there was no trace of the building being inhabited. That way it could be used as a hiding place easier. The problem started when I entered it. There was no light on the inside either, but Sherlock could have gone to sleep. No, that on itself was not a problem. But Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. I couldn't sense his presence, not a breath, not a heartbeat other than my own.

Could he… Maybe he had got lost on his way from the cave? It wasn't likely, though. Sherlock was awfully clever, he would know how to go and come by now, wouldn't he?

Anyway, checking wouldn't hurt. Maybe he had stayed outside observing this or that tree or bird. He was probably just looking at the stars, like we had done each night for this past month. Maybe he was remembering some moments from those nights. Remembering our confessions.

Or maybe… maybe he had gone out looking for me? Maybe, just maybe, he had seen I was not in the cottage and had decided to go search for me, because he thought I would need his company? Because he knew that, deep inside, I craved company. I huffed. Of course he knew, even though I wouldn’t admit it out loud myself.

I went out into the dark night. He was probably freezing. I couldn't do magic, but I could light a fire the old way. It would keep the wolves at bay. Oh, the animals. They posed no threat to me, but they would to a mortal. How fragile their lives were, how easy to blow the flame of their existence.

“Sherlock!” I called, after making a torch with a little fire. No answer.

I walked in the direction of the cave. It was the most probable place for him to be; somewhere along the path. And Sherlock wouldn't be as stupid as not to know when to go back, would he? I would personally kill him after I found him.

I kept walking and calling him, but I didn't find him anywhere. I was almost at the entrance of the cave now. I hadn't been able to find him. There was no other choice; I would use magic. A part of me delighted in the idea of getting to use my magic again after such a long time restraining it. But another knew what it would mean. We would have to run again. It didn't matter, I would think of somewhere else to go.

“Loki” I heard behind me. I turned violently just to see Sherlock, face red from the cold.

“Where were you? I've been looking for you everywhere!”

“That's not true” he answered.

“It's a way of speaking” I said, rolling my eyes. I didn't have time for that.

“That wasn't what I meant” he answered enigmatically. “Because I've been looking for you too. And before you get sentimental, I don't know where we are or how to get out of here. So losing you would be an inconvenience.”

“You really thought I would escape? That I would abandon you to your luck?” I was genuinely hurt by that.

_Does Sherlock have such a low opinion of me?_

_Of course he does, he knows your little dirty secrets. What else did you expect? His love?_

“No, but SHIELD could find you. And we know how much they love kidnapping” Sherlock answered, quirking his eyebrow.

_Oh._

The man started walking towards the cottage. That was it? He wasn't going to ask anything? Not a single question? Not even about before? I had told him not to push, but I didn't expect he would actually comply.

We arrived at the cottage and he went straight to the fireplace. I stayed outside, sitting on the very same rocks where we had sat the last few weeks, and started to go through everything Amora had said.

Not only about Stark, but also about Moriarty. He was up to something. If what the Enchantress had told us was true, he wanted a way to travel between Realms… What for, though? The possibilities were endless, but none of them fitted Jim.

He had also requested personal information about the Avengers and SHIELD agents. To exploit their weaknesses, obviously. He was a master exploiting weaknesses. But the question that was around in my mind was if I was in those reports. Had Jim asked about me too? It was probable.

As hard as I tried to focus on the actual information, I was drawn once and again to Amora's last speech about how happy Stark was without me. It was tearing me apart. It hurt, but I couldn't keep the piercing voice of Amora out of my head. It was everywhere, reliving every painful moment I had experienced in the company of the Avengers. If I closed my eyes, I could see her nasty grin as she said that.

_He didn't even love you, Loki. No one will ever love you._

_Anthony was glad to get rid of you._

_You are a monster and you don't deserve to be loved._

_You would be better off dead!_

“Loki” Sherlock whispered next to me. I almost jumped; I hadn't even noticed his presence. I breathed deeply before answering.

“What do you want, Sherlock?”

“I know you're hurt about Tony.”

“I'm not” I answered automatically.

“You are” he insisted.

“It doesn't matter if I am. He's gone now. He's abandoned me. Everyone does.” the thought didn't even provoke sadness anymore. It was a fact I had already accepted, like my heritage. It wouldn't change.

“That's not true. There are people who will not abandon you” Sherlock said, trying to cheer me up. I laughed without humour. It was so uncharacteristic of him to be kind that it almost sounded wrong.

“Really? Like whom?”

“Your mother. Your brother. Me. They haven't given up on you, even after all your mistakes, and neither will I.”

“You don't truly mean that. Stop this nonsense, Sherlock, caring doesn't suit you.”

I looked at the man, and when I saw his expression I regretted saying that. Of course he cared. This was the man who had faked his own death to protect the ones he cared about. I looked down, avoiding his blue gaze. Under the pale light of the moon his eyes seemed almost white.

“I mean it” Sherlock assured me, gently placing a hand on my upper arm.

I looked up and found his eyes fixed on mine. I licked my lips instinctively, and he leaned forward slightly, hesitant about what he should do.

His lips were cracked because of the cold, but they were still so appetising. Without even thinking, I closed the distance between us and kissed him. There was no passion in it, it was soft and tender and slow.

His hand was still on my arm, and I raised my own hands to his chest, closing them around the fabric to keep Sherlock as close as possible.

He responded to the kiss, hesitantly at first, but more determinedly after, without rushing it. There was no need.

When he finally pulled apart, he avoided my eyes and suddenly got up.

“I… I'm sorry” he said, before heading to the cottage and leaving me alone in the cold dark night.


	34. The One Who Started To Doubt

I had kissed Loki. I had really kissed Loki. Actually, he had been the one who had kissed me, but I had made the first move. I think. But it wasn't right. Yes, we had been here alone for over a month now, but that was no excuse. There was John, even though I hadn't talked about him once, and to be honest I hadn't thought about him a lot either.

_What is wrong with me? I love John, don't I? Why would I kiss Loki then?_

There were so many questions and no answers. I don’t usually have no answers. I don’t like not knowing.

But above everything was the feeling of Loki's lips on mine. They had been tender and sweet and I had liked it. Way more than I should have.

But I couldn't do that to John. If I wanted anything with Loki, at least I had to talk to John first. Clear the air between us.

I hadn't thought about him a lot this past month, partly because I didn't want to bring out all the little conspiracy theories Loki had thought. I knew what a rumour could do, I had experienced it myself. A lie, surrounding a truth. It could corrupt any truth, if the lie was believable enough.

But Moriarty didn't know I was alive, did he? I had made sure he thought I was dead. But maybe someone had told him the truth.

If what Loki had proposed was true, first I had to know for how long. How long had John been working for him? How long had he been pretending? Since the beginning? Or had he betrayed my trust somewhere along the way?

No, John wouldn't have betrayed me once he knew me. Or would he? Was the John I knew the real John? Was he completely different?

Was anything real?

Did he really love me, or he was just using me?

I bit my lip and forced myself to stop thinking about it. Probably it was nothing. A misunderstanding. John was really forgetful sometimes.

Besides, Moriarty wouldn't use the same trick twice, now would he? What's the fun in that?

_But it has worked for him before._

The thought stung, but I pushed it aside. I couldn't afford to keep my mind busy with things that could be handled with later right now.

It was already late, but I wouldn't be able to sleep. Not with everything that had happened today. I'd better use that time to go through the case. It wouldn't hurt to get some work done. Oh, I missed my nicotine patches. They would be so convenient right now.

 

* * *

 

I did fall asleep in the end, seeing as I woke up when the sun rose. Light was pouring from the window, giving the stark room an almost homely glow. I stayed in bed for some time, just listening to the silence and watching the specks of dust whirling around like busy entities. It was hateful.

So I got up and went outside, to see if the cold morning could clear my head and get me rid of the usual dizziness after sleeping. Fortunately, it did.

Unfortunately, I ran into Loki in my way back. I would have to confront him, but I counted on having some extra time before that happened.

“Good morning” he greeted, blinking the sleepiness away.

“Hello” I replied, as naturally as possible. He didn't seem to be affected in any way, but with Loki you had to look closer to see what was actually happening inside his head.

His shoulders were slightly tense, and he had swallowed twice in less than a minute. He was clearly not as calm as he wanted me to believe.

I sneaked into the kitchen and took an apple before going back to the bedroom I was using. There was no quality food here. Only _healthy_ things. Ugh.

Not even five minutes later Loki appeared on the door.

“You came here for another kiss?” I asked sarcastically, not stopping to think about what I was saying.

“Actually, no, but I would be able to live with it.” I didn't reply to that. Loki was grinning without malice. All nonchalance now, but just on the surface.

He didn't add anything either, so we stayed in silence for some time, until I finally spoke up.

“I've been thinking about yesterday.” Okay, maybe not the best way to put it into words. “About Amora” I added.

“What impression did you get about her?” Loki asked, curious.

“Not as impressive as I thought she would be. Giving she's Asgardian, I expected a little more… pride.” I eyed the god cautiously, observing his reaction. He chuckled.

“You're certainly used to some kind of godly standard, aren't you, dear?” I stiffened at the name, but he didn't give it a second thought and so I relaxed.

“Not thanks to you.”

“Ouch” Loki replied, looking pained. Then he got serious, and looked at me in the eye. “Sherlock, is there something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”

“What could you have done wrong?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was referring to.

“Last night, you apologised and went inside in a hurry. You didn't like it? Did I hurt you?” he asked, worry and insecurity tainting his voice.

He thought he had done something wrong. _Him._ Even when I was the one who apologised.

“No. No, you did nothing wrong. I did. I shouldn't have kissed you” I answered. Oh, explaining this was so annoying. “I haven't talked to John in more than a month, and now maybe he is a spy, but still, I want to give him a chance to explain. He's been there for me through much worse. I owe him that, if nothing else.”

“You _owe_ him? So you don't want him to explain himself out of love?” Loki prompted. I wasn't falling for that, though.

“It doesn't matter why I do it. What matters is the truth.”

“Then we should pay him a visit, shouldn't we?” he proposed, startling me. He, Loki, was actually suggesting we went to John? Willingly?

“Yes, of course. Get this over with as soon as possible.”

“We should also interrogate Jim. I believe his part in this scheme is bigger than it seems.”

There was it. Quid pro quo. He gave me something and I gave him something.

“No.”

“Why not? Amora said he was behind this. He is employing her. He probably has had something to do with the disappearance of my things.”

“Moriarty is the key” I summed up. “But I fail to see why he would want your helmet and staff, if he can't use magic.”

“He's asked me more than once if I could teach him, but I turned him down every time. You can or you can't, there's no point in trying to teach it” Loki explained.

“So he must have a magic user to give a use to them. But whom? Amora, maybe.”

“It would be dangerous for her to try to use them. The staff was the one the Mad Titan gave me when I came to conquer Midgard.”

“Oh. Obviously, I should have known. You deactivated its mind controlling properties, I assume?” I asked. It would be inconvenient to have one mind controlled Moriarty on the loose.

“I did, but for someone who has not been under the control of the staff it may have a stronger reaction. Amora wouldn't be able to control it. She would put us all in danger.”

He was trying to convince me. But I wasn't going to let him go to Moriarty. And I wasn't going either.

“Amora would do it, even if she knew it were dangerous. She's clearly infatuated like a teenager with Moriarty” I observed, changing subjects lightly. “How well do you know him, exactly?”

He seemed to ponder the question for a moment, but I could almost see his brain working to create a lie that concealed the parts he didn't want to share.

“When I came to the planet last year, he contacted me. Actually, I had been watching him, but didn't want to get in touch. I didn’t want to work with others. He offered me his assistance, and proved his influence to me.” The god laughed quietly, as if remembering an old joke. “I hid at his home for some time, and he even helped me design the attack on New York. Plan that I completely threw away, but still.” Loki looked me in the eye. “Does that answer the question, Sherlock?”

_It doesn't. Because that's not the whole truth, is it? You've taken out pieces._

“When was the last time you saw him?” If my supposition was right, it had been soon. Just how soon, exactly?

“Some days before I found you” he simply answered. “He let me stay at his home in exchange for entertainment. You know how he is. Always bored.”

Loki tapped his chin lightly, thinking.

“There's a chance Jim has my things. So want it or not, we'll have to go to him” he commented.

He had a point, obviously, but let's not jump to conclusions.

“It's probable he wanted them at first, but after Amora had explained to him the dangers and impossibility of their use, he would have lost interest.” That was not true, but let's not get dramatic. A little lie won't hurt anyone. The interest of Moriarty is fuelled by the nuisance he can be rather than by the utility of the objects.

“Well then, you should develop a plan that doesn't involve visiting Jim to get my helmet and staff. I'm starting to miss them” he added at the end, with faked sadness, before exiting the room.

He was going to Moriarty, I knew it. Well, _Jim_ , as he called him. But it's not as I could do anything to stop him. So I started thinking about my part of the deal.

The visit to John.


	35. Cooperation, Deals & Gifts

No way was I going to stay and do nothing while Sherlock thought. Maybe he could do that; stay still and think for hours, but I couldn't. I needed to be on the move to think.

Act.

So I was going to visit my dear friend Jim, see what was his part in all of this. Maybe get my magical objects back, if I was lucky.

Sherlock probably knew what I was about to do, but hadn't complained, so I guess he didn't object as much as I thought he would. Or maybe he also knew he could do nothing to stop me.

Every time Sherlock started thinking, he slipped into some kind of trance for several hours, and he wasn't aware of anything else, so he wouldn't even notice my absence.

I sneaked out of the cottage and headed towards the cave. A thought occurred to me on my way. Having to go to the cave every time I wanted to teleport was inconvenient, but I didn't know the extent to which SHIELD could track my magic. I wasn't in a rush for Jim's visit either, so I could test that on my way. Safely.

I teleported, but instead of going to London, I appeared in the middle of an African city. The Avengers wouldn't find it strange my being there; the area was known for being an important place for marketing weaponry and diamonds. Maybe I could even get some information for future reference. Just in case I needed weapons. I doubted I would ever need mortal guns, but never say never.

First, I placed some traps around the place where I had landed, to see if someone and who appeared. They would capture motion and sound, a little bit like Midgard's cameras, but my devices included the five senses. It would be as if I were there. Then I casted some spells in different parts of the city, to see where they detected magical activity. Lastly, I teleported out and went to Moriarty. This time, I appeared just in front of his building.

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise" he greeted, opening the door even before I had knocked.

"I know" I answered nonchalantly, stepping inside. "I paid a visit to Amora the other day."

Jim closed the door behind me before answering.

"Oh, is that so? Been a long time since I last checked on her. How's she doing?" he asked with fake concern.

"She told me", I started, before pausing and chuckling at the realisation, "no, I forced her to tell me, what she is up to. With the Avengers."

"I've heard she's working for them. Are you jealous she can steal your position as their pet?" Jim mocked, and I laughed dryly.

"What I found was… unexpected, although not entirely surprising. Giving who we're talking about." I continued, blatantly ignoring his comment.

"I had hoped to surprise you" Moriarty pouted.

"Which brings me here."

"Which brings you here." Jim tilted his head to the side. "Do you feel threatened, Loki?"

I huffed.

"Don't be ridiculous, James. Stupidity doesn't suit you."

"Jim. And I know, thanks" Moriarty answered.

"Now now, let's get to the reason why I'm here. What for do you want technology to travel between Realms?" I asked, my voice soft and menacing.

"So rude" he complained. "Aren't you even going to stay for tea?"

"Jim" I warned.

"Okay, okay. Tsk, you're not fun." I glared and he rolled his eyes. "For traveling between worlds, _obviously_."

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"For what purpose?" I pressed.

"Fun" he simply answered. I took a step closer to him, but he raised a finger. "Do you really want to do that, now?"

I hesitated, but didn't take a step back. Then I grinned.

"What would you do, Moriarty? You can do nothing against a god."

"A have a goddess of my own. And she happens to have quite an interest in me."

"So you're going to use her feelings towards you. That's mean, James." I tilted my head and looked at him reprovingly.

"Jim. Don't be such a hypocrite, Loki. You do the same. With Stark, and now with Sherlock" he accused, with a grin that showed all his teeth.

"I'm not doing anything with Sherlock. He doesn't even have feelings for me I could exploit" I lied. Jim had enough fixation on Sherlock as to add me to the equation. Admitting he may feel something for me wouldn't do him any favour; it would only give Jim something more to work with against him.

"Oh, is that so? I must be mistaken then" Moriarty answered, faking innocence. "Tell me one thing: where have you been hiding? I'm curious."

"You've been looking for me. How touching." The man smirked. "I'll tell you if you tell me what you are planning to do."

"Trying to save the day? That's not like you. Have you really changed that much?" Now it was my turn to smirk. I wasn't going to tell him the truth, of course. It would be bothersome to have to find another hiding place.

"Does it look like I've changed?" I argued in a no-nonsense voice. He was trying to distract me; he had been trying for our whole conversation. I played along, but I kept my objectives clear. He wasn't going to fool me that easily. I would get what I wanted; even though I knew I would have to pry it out.

"Never judge a book by its cover" Jim said in a singsong voice. "Okay, okay, tell me, I'm _dying_ to know."

"You go first."

"Don't you trust me, Loki? That hurts." He put his hand over his chest, as if he were pained.

"No" I simply answered. "Of course I don't trust you."

Moriarty smiled.

"Good boy. Such a clever boy." The man made a pause before speaking again. "I want to expand. You know, get the business to new places, hopefully kill the boredom for a while."

"Those new places being the rest of the Realms."

"So clever" Jim mocked. "But yes, indeed. It'll be fun. Are other species like the humans? Please, please, tell me they're not. Humans are dull" he whined.

"You'll probably end up dead" I observed, even though I suspected that that wasn't an obstacle for James.

"What's the point of living if you're bored? Living is boring. I need something more."

"Any particular plans for once you've got a way between Realms?"

"Nah, I don't know. Find someone to destroy. Maybe kill your beloved Avengers."

He only said that last part to alter me. Moriarty eyed me intently, watching my reaction. I smiled mischievously.

"I could help with that. I happen to have a thousand year experience on who you can pick to entertain yourself with." I tapped my chin with a finger, pondering. "I'll give you a list."

"Good." His eyes hadn't left my face yet.

"I know I'm dazzling, dear. No need for you to keep staring at me" I commented after some minutes of staring. Moriarty grinned and blinked, but didn't move his gaze away from me.

"Your turn" he said.

"Scandinavia."

Moriarty shook his head.

"So predictable. I expected something more from you, Loki. Where in Scandinavia?"

"A city. It's easier to go unnoticed in a big place, isn't it?" I looked at him knowingly. Jim liked London, mainly because it gave him the opportunity to plan and scheme without getting caught. Not like the police could catch him anyway.

James only smiled evilly. Then he turned and headed out to the kitchen, presumably to prepare the tea he had offered before.

"How's Sherlock? I haven't seen him in ages. Actually, I thought he was dead" he commented, without turning from the teapot. "He jumped off a building, did you know?"

"I know. Quite impressive how he managed to survive." Sherlock himself hadn't told me that. In fact, he had barely mentioned Moriarty, even in our late night conversations. But I had done my research on the man before going to him.

"Obvious, once you think about it." He stayed silent while he waited for the water to boil. "And John? Is he still with Sherlock? He's not half as interesting as Sherlock, but it's funny to see his dependence."

"Actually, he's been left behind" I answered with a mischievous smile.

"And our dear Sherlock hasn't been complaining about his absence? He must have feelings for you then."

The man poured the tea into two teacups and started blowing at his to cool the liquid.

"Actually, John Watson is something I want to talk to you about" I started, changing the conversation into more secure and productive fields. "I propose cooperation."

"I'm listening."

"I will provide you with what you need for your travels and you will say John is a spy of yours to everyone."

"Including Sherlock? My, my, isn't that bad? What will he think of this?" Moriarty commented, making a face.

"He won’t know. It is worth it, now, isn't it? You only have to speak, while I do all the work."

"And how are you planning to get what I want?" Jim asked, back to business. He took a sip at the tea.

"Firstly, I know what you need better than Amora. And secondly, from the Avengers, obviously" I answered, like he were a child.

"But you are not their pet anymore." Jim pouted and crossed his arms in a rather comical way.

I rolled my eyes at the comment but otherwise ignored it. "I can go back to them. They're so ridiculously easy to trick."

"Then I think we just made ourselves a deal." James grinned darkly. "And if you behave, I have a gift for you."

I arched and eyebrow, suspicious. A gift?

"And what would it be?"

"I quite like the horns, I will miss having them. But I needed the staff, and well, the helmet was there. Blame me." Jim made an innocent face, completely ignoring my question.

_Oh._

"So you have my helmet and staff. I was wondering who took them" I answered nonchalantly.

"Yep" he simply said.

"I guess I'll have to get them back."

"You need to find them first. They're magic-proof; Amora took care of that."

"We'll see about that" I said, before disappearing from the apartment.

I appeared in Africa again, and I saw Stark and Captain America standing in the middle of a street. Tony had a device that looked like a tablet in his hands. A scanner, maybe. But Stark being Stark it probably multitasked.

Before approaching them I took a look at the radars I had planted before. Most of the spells hadn't attracted the Avengers, so I knew to what extent I could use magic safely. They had visited some of the spots where I had used magic, though, so I had to be careful.

Then I walked up to them carelessly. I may as well start this new plan with James now.

"Look who we have here" I greeted. "I didn't expect you yet."

"I'm full of surprises" Stark said, trying to appear cheerful.

"Nah, you're not” I answered, pretending as well.

“Why did you call us here, Loki?” Steve interrupted, straight to the point.

“There may be some things I have reconsidered” I said hesitantly.

“What things?” Stark asked, but I ignored him.

“I want to go back” I explained to Steve, without looking at Tony once.

“Why would you want to go back?” the engineer asked. That was it. Now or never. I looked at him dead in the eye before answering.

“Why do you think, Anthony?” I licked my lips. “Why would I want to go back?”

“But I’m with Pepper now” he stammered. He looked almost ashamed.

“I know; I don’t care.” I looked at him one last time before turning. “You’ll be hearing from me soon.”

Then I teleported back to the cottage, this time directly into it. They couldn’t track that spell.


	36. The One Who Likes To Be Queen

As I thought, Loki went to Moriarty. He didn't say anything about his visit or what did they talk about, so I asked.

"Don't pretend you don't know I know you've been with Moriarty."

"I am not pretending" he answered. "I'm just not mentioning it."

"Same thing. What did you agree on?"

"I'll help him get some technology he wants."

"Infiltrating the Avengers. I see. You've already talked to them, so when are you going?" I asked. If he was going to leave soon I would have to change the perspective of my own visit to John.

"I will need a couple of days to test the waters before I leave for good." The god made a pause and lowered his gaze. "Sherlock, I'm really sorry, but Jim confirmed our suspicious about John. I didn't mention it, he just told me."

"I'm still asking him myself. I don't trust Moriarty, and he loves these mind tricks" I declared.

"Because you owe him" Loki said, repeating my words.

"What do _you_ get out of your deal with Moriarty?" I asked. That was something I couldn't understand, and I didn't like that.

"Power, and a magnificent view of his destruction across the Realms" he answered.

I narrowed my eyes but didn't comment. Loki had definitely grave issues, but as far as I could see, his behaviour had moved from destructive. Why this now? Power, that was understandable. A seat to watch the universe burn? Not so much.

"A view of his destruction? How much of it are you going to actively be part of?”

"Quite a bit" he answered, crunching his nose for a moment in a funny way.

That made more sense. Loki was the God of Mischief and Trickery, after all. Some havoc was to be expected.

"I want to see him" I asked.

"I know, I'll reunite you with John as soon as possible. Fret not" he answered, even though he knew I wasn't referring to John.

"Not John. I want to speak with Moriarty" I explained.

Loki arched an eyebrow sceptically. "Now you want to see him?" I shot him a glare. "Alright, we'll go. I have some errands to run on my own; I'll leave you with him. Just call me when you're done."

"Didn't you leave your phone when you fled from Stark Tower?"

"I'm planning on getting it back soon enough."

"Still, I don't have your number."

"It's all about complaining, isn't it?" He tsked. "But I know yours, dear Sherlock."

"Okay." I wasn’t going to get anything else out of him, so I grabbed his arm, and he looked at me, surprised. "I've heard you teleporting directly, so I'm assuming it's safe to do so. Now move" le urged him.

"We'll go tomorrow" he just said. He probably needed to rest for a bit, but I narrowed my eyes anyway.

"What a rubbishy god" I complained, sitting on the sofa.

I still had to talk to John, but I had decided to talk with Moriarty first, especially after Loki had told me James had admitted John was his spy. He loved to boast, but in a private way. In a way that only I could know. Or in this case, Loki and me.

I could see what he told me, and then go to John, and see what Moriarty told him to say. I would see if he was just repeating what Moriarty said. He wouldn’t be able to fool me. I can even pick Loki's lies up, and he has had a thousand year practice as the god of them.

_If he's indeed a spy_ , reminded me a voice. I closed my eyes. Of course, _if_ he was the spy.

 

* * *

 

The next morning I found Loki in the kitchen, brewing some coffee and dressed in simple leather pants and an open shirt. I couldn't help but to stare at his chest and marble skin.

I cleared my throat. "Do you think that's the best approach with Stark? He just left you for his assistant, and you yourself said some mean things to him." He glared murderously at me, but I could see a hint of vulnerability behind his burning emerald eyes. "People forget, and I've said some unfortunate things myself, but you usually have to apologise" I added hurriedly. I didn't want to have my neck broken on the spot.

"Anthony Stark is my business. I advise you not to interfere" he said, dangerously smooth. Then he buttoned his shirt, but there was still a lot of skin showing. It was distracting. His eyes found mine, and I could see he was nervous. For this trip, yes but for something else too. He suddenly grabbed my arm and teleported.

I had never seen where Moriarty lived before, but it was exactly what I had thought. A skyscraper, and he lived in the attic. Always on top. Observing the world from above.

Loki rang and the door opened. Moriarty looked surprised when he saw me.

"Oh" was the only thing he said. I stepped inside, followed by Loki.

"Hello, James. Pleasure to find you" the god greeted. Moriarty replied with a simple hi.

"Uhm" the man started, "you should be dead."

"Surprised?" I asked sarcastically.

"Well, yes, Jim's plans usually work. And he had quite an obsession with you."

At that I turned to face him. It was definitely Moriarty's face, but there was something… That man wasn't the consulting criminal I had faced before. Loki didn't seem preoccupied, so he had to know what was happening.

"Who exactly are you, now? Did Jim have a twin I didn't know about?" Now _that_ would have been a surprise. But no, they were identical, too similar as to be different people. Double personality?

"My name's James. You are used to deal with Jim, I'm afraid" he answered with a smile. A kind smile, without any trace of malice or wickedness.

"You have never met James?" Loki asked, curious. "I assumed you knew about him."

"Well I didn't. And he is of no help; I want to talk to Moriarty, not his good twin."

"We are not…" James interrupted.

"I don't care" I answered before he could finish his sentence. "Can't you call him or something?"

"I am sorry but I can't right now. I have a date. You'll have to wait." The determination of his voice surprised me. James seemed way more weak than that. Dealing with Moriarty's acquaintances must have forced him to be firm.

"You know who I am. Jim won't be happy if you make me wait."

"You're the great Sherlock Holmes, who came back from the dead not so long ago. Oh, I think he will be pleased" James answered.

Someone rang the doorbell before I could reply.

James glanced at me one last time before heading towards the door.

"I'm sorry I'm early; I thought there would be more traffic" said a female voice I knew all too well from the entrance.

Molly Hooper.

"It's okay. Eh, Molly, could you wait a minute? He has guests."

"Oh, sure, yes."

"Molly!" I called.

"Sherlock?" came the hesitant answer.

"Could you please come for a second?" Maybe she could convince James to let me talk to Moriarty. I heard her hurried steps and a moment later she appeared through the door.

"Sherlock, where were you? Are you okay? Has something happened?" she started asking, stumbling over the words.

"I'm in the middle of a case, and your boyfriend here is a nuisance and won't let me continue with my investigation" I explained.

"James, what is he asking?" Molly addressed him instead of me. Maybe this relationship was more important than I had thought.

"He wants to talk to him. But this is your free afternoon, and I promised to take you somewhere nice."

"Well, Sherlock" Loki started. "I have to go. Call me when you're done, but I don't promise to come back immediately."

"Of course. Have fun with Stark." The god vanished and I turned to face Molly again, who had just noticed the dark haired man and had a baffled expression in her face. "Please?" I added, putting the best innocent face I could. She looked away from the spot where Loki had been. By the expression on Molly's face, it had worked.

"James, I'm sure it won't take long. We can go out afterwards." She took his hand and tugged lightly. "I'll be here."

He seemed to finally give in. James nodded and closed his eyes. A moment later his whole demeanour changed to one I knew quite well.

"Hello Jim."

"Finally. I didn't know when you'd visit." He grinned unpleasantly. "Are you here about your little pet? Has he bitten you yet?"

"Jim!" Molly reprimanded him. He looked at her and his smile sweetened a bit.

"Hello, Molly, dear. Sorry for interrupting." He meant it. He actually meant that.

_Interesting._

"Yes" I answered, ignoring their interaction. "I am here about John."

"One of my best acquisitions." He shrugged. "You didn't even suspect he was one of my spies, did you? Must have been quite a shock when you found out. You were so in love."

"But he's not part of your current big bad plan."

"Nah, he's not. He's been useful, but his task is not over yet. I may kill him, though. See how that affects you." He watched me intently, searching for any reaction to his words. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

Molly’s eyes spoke volumes as she listened to our conversation. A myriad of emotions crossed her face in a matter of seconds.

"So why don't you tell me what is this new scheme of yours?"

"Why don't you deduce it, my dear Sherlock?" Jim asked, taking a step closer to me.

"I would, but I'm working on more important things right now."

"That hurts me. I thought we had _a special something_ " he quoted. He leaned forward and continued. "I'll tell you, if you beat me at, say, chess?"

"Typical. Classy as ever. I'll be my pleasure to best you at chess. Boring game, it doesn't prove anything, but if boring is what you like" I commented. "When I win, you'll tell me your plan. The truth, not what you've told Loki."

"Uh, clever."

"It was obvious that wasn't the truth."

"And If I win?" He reached out and traced my neck and jaw with his finger. "I get _you_."

"No" I replied. "I'll tell you where we've been."

Moriarty pouted childishly before moving back his hand to rest on his side. "And about Loki. You'll tell me about him."

_Loki won’t know you’ve told him._

"Deal."

Moriarty placed a chessboard on the table and set up the pieces.

"I'll take black" he announced.

"So typical."

Once the pieces were in their place, I moved a pawn.

"I do that too; move my pawns. Mine are people, though" Moriarty pondered, moving a knight.

"Must be boring, having only pawns to play with" I commented.

"I don't only have pawns. They are pawns, yes, but they are valuable. Like rooks. Or knights, or bishops" he pondered for a moment before continuing. "John would be a knight. Your very own knight in shiny armour."

"You must be the queen, then." I made a pause, ignoring his latest comment. "No, you're the player."

"Of course I'm the player. But sometimes it's fun to be queen."

"I can see you like it."

We continued to play in silence for some time, until finally I saw an open flank and moved a knight to win. Moriarty had slipped and made a mistake.

"Checkmate" I announced.

"Oh. I lost" Jim said innocently. "A deal's a deal. And here I thought I would find out about your shenanigans with the god." He made a pause and shrugged. "Well now, my part. I do want to travel to other Realms. Amora told me all about them. She's not that interesting, but others may be. Like Loki. He's really interesting."

"But not enough for you" I observed.

"Nah. Not as good as you, dear. Don't get jealous. But I expect to find someone decent. Anyway, I need to use the technology SHIELD has. They've been quite protective of it; I can't get it any other way. So our favourite God of Mischief will get that for me. And I am actually going to give him his beloved helmet and spear; I keep my promises. I am going to use him to open the portal, though. He doesn't know that, but there's plenty of time until he’ll have to do it."

"Use him" I repeated.

"I've promised him a place to create as much chaos and mischief as he pleases. He'll create a distraction while I have fun. And he'll have his vengeance. It’s a win win situation" Moriarty continued. "And John… Let's just say his part is not over yet."

I narrowed my eyes, but the man just stared at me blankly.

"There's still so much I could destroy about you. I want to have my fun with this. It's a second chance, and I will take advantage of it." He grinned showing all his teeth. "The first time I didn't do it correctly. I should have relied more on him. I didn't see it, but you were already in love with him. You yourself said it; love is a vicious motivator. You were ready to commit suicide to save them, and look at you now. What would you do now for the people you love? And just who is my spy and who isn't? Would you even care? I can still see the hope in your eyes. The hope that John won't be connected to me. Believe what you want, Sherlock, the truth will fly." He raised his hands, mimicking a bird flying with them. Then he turned to Molly. "It's been a pleasure, Molly. Send James my regards." The man grinned one last time, looking at me, before changing into James.

"I'm sorry Molly, that you had to watch this" I apologised.

"No, no, it's okay. It's good to see you." She looked at me and smiled as she held James' hand. "Are you…, are you safe?"

"Of course I'm safe. He did try to kill me before, but it didn't work."

"He'll learn from his mistakes, believe me. He always does" James said ominously. He squeezed the woman's hand and looked at her adoringly for a moment. "We're already late, so please leave now."

I exited the apartment and called the number Loki had given me before. It hadn't been that long; he was probably still with Stark. As expected, he didn't pick up, so I went outside the building and called a taxi.

Maybe John was in Baker Street.


	37. His Hate, His Revenge & His Rage

The moment I appeared in Stark's Malibu mansion, Jarvis greeted me and notified Tony of my presence, so I just sat on the sofa and waited.

"I wasn't sure you would be here, but I expected so" I said as soon as I heard the man's footsteps.

"Hello to you too" he replied.

I got up and turned to face him, a mischievous smile spreading on my face.

"Hello, Anthony." I took some steps closer to him to take advantage of the height difference. "How's your new life with the mortal? I've been informed that you're quite pleased."

"I am."

I tsked. "Your standards have lowered, Anthony. But after me, you would have had a hard time finding someone comparable."

I locked my eyes with his and he pretended not to notice, going to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of an amber liquid.

"Anyway, what is all of this? Telling us you're going to come back in Africa, now coming here?" He pointed with the glass in my direction. "You are a drama queen."

"My departure wasn't precisely pacific; I need to test the waters first" I answered, ignoring his last comment.

"Yeah, I already gathered that. What I don't understand is, why? Why come back?"

I looked away and bit my lip.

"I don't have anywhere else to go" I said in a cracked voice.

"You have Asgard. And the Earth is really big, surely you have someplace hidden?"

"I can't go to Asgard" I hissed. "I'm banished."

"But you went. With Thor."

"With Thor as a babysitter, and only because it was a special occasion." Frigga had asked Odin to let me go to Asgard after my confinement in Midgard ended. Surprisingly enough, he agreed. But that would be the last time I saw my mother in a long time. Not the idiot of my brother, though. I would have to see him and be reminded of everything I didn't have. Everything I had lost.

"I don't believe any of this shit" Tony blurted out.

"Why would I lie, now?" I asked.

"It could be anything. Revenge, some twisted evil plan you're plotting. Fun. It's not like it'd be the first time you lie to me."

"I do not wish vengeance against any of you." Well that depends on who _you_ is, but semantics.

_You're lying, then._

_I am. Not for fun, though._

_But you know how this will end, and you're already enjoying the expectation._

_It always ends up the same way with Stark._

_An only physical relationship cannot last._

_I do not intend this to last. I will merely use him when I need to._

_Or when you want to._

_Indeed._

"Bullshit."

"Believe me or not; do as you please. But I need to go back."

"Only if you explain your motives to me." We stared at each other for a long time, not wanting to move our gaze first. "Tell me where you've been and why you've decided to come now."

I licked my lips as I thought, our eyes still locked on each other's." I need help" I breathed at last.

Tony gasped lightly then let out a sigh. "Help with what?"

"I've been… After I left, I used the time at my disposal to look for a way to free my children. Jörmungandr is here in Midgard" I explained. It wasn't even a lie; Jörmungandr _was_ in this Realm and I'd like, more than anything, to free him.

"You said you wanted to come back for me."

“Did I really said that, now? You are not the centre of the universe, Anthony." _Not even the centre of mine, not anymore._ "And I said no such thing."

Stark did not answer, but I could see him reliving our latest encounter in Africa. His face changed when he realised I had actually never said that I wanted to come back because of him.

In that moment I realised; he thought —no, it was more than that. He _hoped_ — I was still in love with him. He thought he could control me through that love, that I would do what he asked.

That could mean two opposite things; that he hated me or that he still loved me. Either way he would possibly go on a solo mission against or for me.

But I betted on the latter; I've known his hate, his revenge and his rage, and it wasn't like this. Tony Stark was fire.

"Do you want me to come back?"

"It would make things difficult."

"For Pepper?" I used her name and not an insult. He should at least acknowledge that; it was an effort.

"For me. But for her too. After the last time you were here, when you said you'd been with me, she left." The man chuckled without humour. "I mean, I expected it. She's too good. But I wanted her to stay."

He said this like I cared. He always said things like I cared. Tony didn't realise most of the time I was only collecting data to use later. He had never seen that.

"Then why would you fuck me?" I asked innocently, pushing him.

"Because you're hot, and I hadn't seen you in a long time, and because I missed you, and also because it's you" his voice lowered as he went on speaking, until he reached an almost inexistent _you_ at the end.

"So I'm hot." I started pacing the room seemingly aimlessly, but I was actually getting closer to the man. His last confession had opened the path I wanted to use. The path I always used with Stark. Because it worked. Because the man was irremediably human. "And you missed me. How charming. Maybe, since I'm _me_ , we'll do something to make you not miss me that much."

By then I was already invading Stark's personal space, so I reached out and traced his arc reactor with a lazy finger. He swallowed and I felt his heartbeat accelerate. I raised my gaze and found his eyes looking at me, mesmerised.

The next moment we were kissing passionately, biting lips and pulling at them, not allowing the other even a moment to breathe. Tony was everywhere. Touching him, feeling him, was the only thing that mattered.

He discarded his clothes to the floor incredibly fast, which made me wonder just how long Stark had been without sex. I did the same and Tony guided me to the bedroom, not ceasing the little bites and kisses. I bumped into a corner or piece of furniture a couple of times, but considering I was going backwards, it could have been worse.

Once in the bedroom, I twisted and pulled the man with me, so that I was the one facing the bed. I grinned and pushed him into the mattress before crawling on top of him. I straddled him to keep Stark still and grabbed his wrists with my hands so he could not move them.

I was enjoying this immensely, having the power for once. All that time I had been a prisoner, even if not in a conventional cell, I had been afraid. Not terrified, but I didn't feel complete and utterly safe either. There was always the threat of Odin changing his mind and sentencing me to a lifetime in Asgard's dungeons, or the director of SHIELD, Fury, deciding he would deal with the prisoner, aka me, on his own way.

So even when I started my relationship with Stark, I didn't feel like I could have the power. I had fucked him so I could be safe in the first place. Yes, feelings came afterwards. Requited love, then everything was amazing, the sex was never-ending and life was pink.

Lovely lie.

Even when my punishment ended, I didn't take control in bed. Not with Stark. I did what he wanted me to. But somehow, that changed when I left Stark Tower. These last few times I was more dominant, more _me_.

I felt a sudden feeling of power and grinned. I gave Stark a wet kiss, his body writhing beneath me, begging to be able to touch. I grinned mischievously against his jaw as I nibbled at his neck. His goatee scratched my lips, but I licked along his neck and jawline until I reached his earlobe. I could feel his heartbeat pulsing through his body, frantic and insatiable.

Tony made such endearing and delicious noises; they just made me want to eat him whole. I pulled at his earlobe with my teeth before dragging them down his face.

I was still holding his hands above his head, so I made some handcuffs appear to secure him and allow me some more movement. I got up from his belly and traced his chest with a cold finger as I crawled back. I stopped at his thighs and licked my lips in anticipation.

"Ready for a little action, dear Anthony?" I asked, looking at him. His eyes were burning with lust, and his voice came out hoarse.

"You really need to ask?" he answered, smiling slyly.

I answered with a purr and grabbed his hard cock. I passed my tongue along the shaft playfully, and then started teasing the tip, giving it lazy licks.

Stark moaned but didn't close his eyes at first. Then I swallowed his cock to the hilt suddenly and he gasped, arching his back against the restrains.

I looked at him through my eyelashes and smirked. Right then, I had all the power. And I so loved that.

I started bobbing my head up and down, setting a slow rhythm that I knew would drive Tony crazy. It did, and soon he was begging me to go faster.

"Loki, fuck, please go faster."

"As you wish" I replied, and complied.

I sped up the pace and then yes, I could hear Stark moaning loudly. He was closing his hands in fists and opening them again, eager to touch something, _anything_. He was not used to be in that position.

Just when he was going to cum, I stopped. He whined and cursed and told me to continue, _by God's sake_. I could only laugh at his obvious distress.

"Now now, Tony, am I going to let you cum?"

"Fuck. Fuck, Loki, let me finish, fuck" he answered defiantly.

"Such a demanding boy" I commented, but I got back down and used my tongue. In no time he was on the edge again, ready to jump and release. He only needed one little push.

Tony came into my mouth, screaming my name. Before the afterglow faded off, I got up and kissed him, letting him taste himself. I hadn't swallowed or spat, so the cum was still in my mouth. He smiled, pleased, and licked the rest of it off my lips.

I freed him from the handcuffs, and suddenly his hands were all over me, behind my neck to push me to him again, shoulders, lower back, grabbing my ass.

He incorporated as he held me to him. I placed a hand on the mattress for support, but soon I clenched my fist as Tony teased my entrance with a finger, pushing slightly to put it in. The uncomfortable feeling vanished quickly and Stark started moving it in and out, stretching the muscle rim.

He shifted to get the lube and soon a second finger entered, coated in it. I gasped then moaned at the feeling as the fingers moved in and out. It wasn't as cold as me but still it was colder than Tony, creating a delicious contrast between the body pressed against mine and the fingers inside me.

Stark made scissoring movements with the two digits that were inside me before adding a third one. I couldn't help the little gasp that escaped my lips. Tony's free hand got tangled in my hair as he pulled me to a long heated kiss.

He pulled out his fingers and coated his cock in lube. I got up and rested my hands behind his neck for support, as he placed the tip of his hardness on my ass, pushing gently. Then, suddenly, he slammed his hips against me, pushing his cock balls deep in me. I yelped and bit his shoulder to muffle a cry, drawing blood. He hissed and pulled out before slamming back in.

"Stark" I cried out, but managed to maintain the commanding tone. "Slower."

He grunted but didn't comply, so I placed a hand in his chest and pushed him flat against the bed, stopping him. I rested both hands on his chest then, just over the arc reactor. Rays of blue light illuminated the room, giving his face a mysterious glow. It was a much paler blue than my Jötunn skin, but it was mesmerising all the same.

I bent forward and caressed his face before kissing him slowly. Yes, I felt good. Sex made me feel good. But it didn't feel the same. I didn't have that feeling anymore when seeing his face. The feeling that made me want to be beside him forever, just listening to his voice and inhaling his scent.

_Everything's changing._

_Has it already changed, though?_

I lifted my hips and brought them down, relishing in the sensation. I repeated the process, but Tony was moving his own hips along mine, and this was about me having the control, the power. Not him. I was going to prove him that I could be in charge.

_Are you trying to prove it to him, or to yourself?_

I shot him a glare he completely missed. "Darling, this is about me moving. You stay there and look pretty."

"But you're having all the fun" he complained.

"You had your opportunity and threw it away" I answered, reprimanding, referring to my previous warning when he was going too fast.

Stark only pouted.

I increased the pace and soon I could feel the orgasm building up. I moaned and he did too. His hands were grasping the sheets tightly, his whole body in tension. He was close to cumming too.

I moved a hand from his chest to pleasure myself but he saw what I was going to do and took my hand, placing it where it was before. Then Stark pumped my cock, giving it some energetic tugs until I was undone.

I came into his hand, scratching his skin with my nails and screaming incoherencies into the air. He soon followed, after thrusting some more into me. I went limp on top of him and he pulled out after some time. His breathing evened as he fell asleep.

Once he was safely asleep, I got up and went to the bathroom nearby to have a quick shower.

_Theory confirmed. I don't love Tony Stark anymore._

The thought left a lack of sentiment in me. I didn't feel sad or regretful. I just didn't feel.

I went back into the bedroom and conjured some clothes, as well as the phone Stark had given me so long ago. It had a GPS incorporated, which I discarded.

Sherlock had called twice.

I looked at the sleeping man one last time before disappearing from the mansion.

The preparations for my return were finished.


	38. The One With The Drama Queen Complex

John wasn't in Baker Street, surprisingly. Or unsurprisingly. I didn't even know what was supposed to be logical with John anymore. Moriarty had said he was indeed his spy, but I had no reason to trust the man. Or believe him, for that matter. He didn't even need an excuse for doing it; his constant boredom made him unpredictable and capricious.

But everything made more and more sense as I dug. And John Watson, if that was his name, being Moriarty's spy fitted perfectly.

And that scared me.

I checked my phone, but there were no messages. I had sent a text to John, but didn't really expect him to answer. He didn't. I had also tried to contact Loki, but he must have been still with Stark, so I could only wait for him to finish taking care of his vast sexual needs.

Mrs Hudson was surprised to see me. Apparently almost two months were a lot of time to be missing. I greeted her and told her to prepare tea and went up.

Baker Street was just the way I had left it. There was dust, but no more than usual, so Mrs Hudson must have been cleaning. Unfinished experiments and half decomposed body parts were still in the fridge and microwave. She hadn't touched them, at least. She usually complained about them.

Loki didn't seem to be coming back for some hours, and I couldn't be some hours without doing something, so I turned on the computer and hoped there was some mildly interesting case in my inbox.

I had taken with me my main laptop when all of this started, but I had a lot of them. I didn't even remember what for. Anyway, I picked the less boring cases out of the inbox and quickly answered the most obvious ones.

A clear case of selective amnesia, a woman who had set up a burglary to convict her brother-in-law and another case I am not allowed to mention due to the Official Secrets Act were the ones I killed the time with that day. Quite dull day, actually.

I stayed up examining some fibres under the microscope until Loki arrived.

"You are late" I said, without lifting my eyes from the microscope.

"I don’t recall we agreed on a time to meet" he answered, crashing on the sofa.

I finished examining the thread and looked at him. He was dishevelled and his unruly hair and crumpled clothes suggested he had just had sex.

"So when are you leaving?" I asked. Loki would have slept with Stark even if he didn't really want to, because it was what worked with Stark, and Loki needed to manipulate him to go back to the Avengers.

"As soon as I find your little entertainment."

"What makes you think I haven't talked to him yet?"

"Have you?" he asked, confident of the answer.

"No" I replied reluctantly. The green eyed god just smiled, pleased with himself, then yawned.

"Well it's been an exhausting day, it's almost four in the morning here and I am going to bed. Do you want to accompany me, Sherlock?" Loki purred, getting up from the sofa and walking past me into my bedroom. He brushed my shoulder on his way, sending chills down my spine. His skin was cold to the touch.

I didn't know what to do. John was probably a spy, but there was still a voice inside my head claiming, more and more quietly each time, that he may be not. Still, I hadn't had a real conversation with him for over a month. I hadn't even _thought_ about him that much. Did that make me a bad person?

_Of course it doesn't. And anyway, who cares?_

_I don't want to be the man I was before I met John._

_You won't be. What you must ask yourself is, what do you want now? Right now, do you want to go with Loki?_

That settled it. I got up myself and followed the god. He was surprised to see me there, but he hid it perfectly in a matter of milliseconds. Loki was already in bed, half clothed this time.

"Will you kick me in your sleep?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Only if you take my part of the sheets." Loki smiled mischievously, but there was a trace of warmth there.

I rolled my eyes and took my pyjamas out from the wardrobe. I looked at the god, but he was staring intently at me.

"Do you mind?" I asked.

"Not at all."

I grunted silently in exasperation and quickly changed. I wasn’t going to give the god the satisfaction to see me embarrassed. I felt Loki's eyes fixed on my body during all the process, but he didn't make any sound or movement. When I was finished, I turned to face him and got into the bed myself.

We were facing each other, but we didn't say anything. I could only hear our breathings and the beating of my heart. I knew he could hear it too.

But I wasn't going to do it. Not yet. I didn't know exactly what was happening with John and that was a weight I carried in my mind. I wouldn't be able to let go until I found out.

"We don't have to do anything" Loki said, after several minutes of silence.

"I know" I answered.

Silence again.

His green eyes had a mysterious glow in the dark, like two little fires inside marbles. I found myself not capable of looking away from them.

The god fell asleep before I did, and that gave me the opportunity to watch him freely. His dark locks were spread on the pillow, and his face had softened in a way it rarely did when he was awake.

He shivered lightly and moved closer to me. I checked if he was really asleep, but he was. I remembered the nightmares he had. Loki had said that if he slept with somebody he didn't have them, so I moved closer and wrapped my arms around him. The trembling stopped after some moments and he sighed with relief.

I stayed there, my arms around his apparently fragile pale body, petting his hair and inhaling his scent, like winter and woods, until I fell asleep too.

 

* * *

 

When I woke up Loki was still beside me, soundly asleep. I didn't want to wake him up, and I didn't want to get up, so I covered myself better with the sheets and closed my eyes again.

Until I noticed his erection against my thigh, that's it. It's not unusual to wake up half erect, but this was another thing altogether. This was a complete hard on.

I opened my eyes again and only then I heard Loki's little noises. They were almost imperceptible, but they were there. He was moaning softly.

The god snuggled even closer to me, rubbing his cock against my leg unconsciously. I gasped lightly at the touch and he blinked sleepily.

"Sherlock" he muttered, his voice raspy. Loki smiled and he blinked a bit more as his mind became less hazy and he realised his position. I still had my arms around him, his body pressed closely against mine.

Loki disentangled himself from my arms and got up from the bed in a hurry. "I'll go take a shower" he announced, exciting the room in a rush.

I was left alone in the room. I waited until I heard the water running to get up and let out a sigh. I retrieved my dressing gown from the wardrobe and went to the kitchen. There was a tray with tea in the little table by the chair, still hot. I poured myself a cup and waited for Loki to get out.

The god appeared fifteen minutes later, partially clothed. He was wearing simple leather pants but no shirt. The contrast between his pale skin and the dark pants and hair only accentuated the spark of vivid green that were his eyes. He took a cup of tea too, sipped to taste it, and added sugar.

He didn't mention the incident from before and neither did I.

"So," Loki started, leaving the empty cup on the table beside him, "do you have anything belonging to John? It'll be easier and more powerful if I have something to use as an anchor during the locator spell."

"Everything in his bedroom is his. Some things here too" I answered, pointing around me to indicate the living room.

Loki waved his hand and John's comb appeared. The god examined it carefully before picking up a single short hair.

"You're enjoying having your magic back" I stated.

"Immensely" Loki replied, a faint smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Then he placed it on the table and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He started mouthing words, probably in whatever language they spoke in Asgard, or even in a more antique one.

Loki frowned, stopping his hands mid-air before continuing with more insistence, but his frown only increased.

So he wasn't able to trace John, which either meant Loki wasn't as powerful a sorcerer as he intended to appear or John was somewhere warded against magic. The seconds seemed more probable, though. I had already seen Loki perform magic before.

"SHIELD" I declared. Who else could it be? It was not Moriarty; he needed him to destroy me. And no other enemy of mine had access to a magic user.

Loki gave up and stopped trying.

"SHIELD."

I swallowed. So they had John. Why would they want him? Because of his connections to me, and therefore Loki? No, that seemed like a long shot, but they had already tried with me and hadn't worked.

_Because of his association with Moriarty,_ said a voice inside my head.

_Shut up,_ I answered silently, but the truth was that all those comments my own mind was doing were poking at my trust in the soldier.

"I'll go now" Loki announced. "You'll stay here, keep low, don't draw much attention to yourself for a while."

I huffed.

"What?" he hissed, then realised. "Oh. It'll be difficult to keep low with your drama queen complex."

"Pot. Kettle. Black. Diva" I spelled slowly and clearly.

"At least I accept my flaws." Loki replied, quirking an eyebrow.

"I accept them too" I said, indignant. How dared he.

"Sure." Loki smiled mischievously before getting up. "I must accelerate events. I had planned on staying for a couple more days." He pouted childishly.

"You would be bored here. You don't have Stark to entertain you." As soon as I said that I knew it wasn't the right thing to say. Fuck. Loki's eyes lost that brightness and his face fell, but he tried to cover it and dismissed the comment with a smirk.

"Maybe not. Who knows. You don't have your entertainment either" Loki replied, a bit more sharply than needed. But then again, I deserved it.

"I would have you" I said, trying to make up for my last comment.

"Indeed." That sounded more cheerful and I relaxed, not even knowing I was tense. I smiled lightly and he mirrored the gesture.

"So, you're leaving now?"

"Why, Sherlock, will you miss me?"

"No." I tried to look offended and failed miserably. "I am above that." I made a pause. "Besides, you won't be long. How much time could you possibly need to fool the Avengers, take what Moriarty wants and escape?"

Loki smiled wider and quickly leant down and kissed me. It took me by surprise, but I found myself answering to the kiss enthusiastically. The god grabbed my hair and pulled lightly to move my face upwards and have a better angle. I bit his lip and he made an appreciative sound. Loki darted his tongue into my mouth and I welcomed it gladly. Finally he backed off. Both of us were panting and smiling.

"For you to remember me while I'm gone" Loki said before disappearing.

Once again I was left alone and with nothing else to do but wait.

Wonderful.


	39. Mercy, Humanity & Fun

Well, that had gone better than last time. Considering he hadn't even had time to escape after the kiss. That's why I had teleported so suddenly, it occurred to me he could shy away again and I couldn't see that.

I was a coward.

I appeared inside the Stark Tower, in the main lounge. The Avengers usually stayed there when they were between missions, so I expected to find some of them there. I was right.

Clint Barton was sprawled on the sofa, changing channels on the enormous TV lazily, while Steve Rogers was reading a book, sat at the dinner table. They both raised their heads when I appeared, and Clint jumped in his seat.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Loki" he said. "What are you doing here? I thought you fled."

"I'm back" I answered.

"I can see that."

I turned to the blond man, who was eyeing me sceptically.

"I want to see Thor."

"He's not here" he simply replied.

"Where is he then?" I demanded.

"I think he's with Jane. He said something about visiting her last week" Hawkeye said. Even after I had used and mind controlled him, he had forgotten all that easily. Too easily for my liking, so I always kept an open eye for him. Just in case.

I groaned. Each time my stupid brother went to see that stupid mortal he was out for weeks at a time. And I needed to talk to him _now_.

So I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, filling it with clear water. Then I brought it back to the lounge and placed it on the table. Time for some magic.

I put my hands over the water, whispering the words for the communication spell. I put more magic than needed in it, because I wanted SHIELD's scans to detect this particular spell. I wanted them to think they could still track my every move.

I concentrated on Thor, and soon his image started to appear on the surface of the water. It was blurry at first, but it became clearer and clearer with the time.

"What exactly is _that_?" Barton asked, curious.

"A spell. Now shut up, I'm busy."

He mumbled something but I couldn't care enough to pay attention to it.

I could already see him, but the background wasn't defined yet, it was a mass of incongruent colour. I didn't need it anyway.

"Thor" I called.

He looked surprised and confused. His eyes wandered around the room, trying to locate the origin of the sound.

"Thor you idiot I'm not there. I'm in Stark Tower, so you'd better come here and honour your promise."

His eyes widened. "You are in the Stark Tower? You have decided to return, brother?"

I rolled my eyes at his delight. "Yes I have. Now come. I need you." I knew that last part would convince him to hurry.

I waved my hand and the image dissolved. Then I poured the water down the sink and placed the bowl in it too. Someone would clean it later.

"So? Thor is coming soon?" asked Clint.

"I expect so" I answered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"And you're here because…?" he continued.

"He made me a promise. I need to see if he keeps his word."

"Care to elaborate?" Captain America interrupted.

"Not at all" I answered, smiling at the man, but I didn't say anything else.

We stayed in silence, waiting for Thor to arrive. Barton took out his phone, probably to text the rest of the Avengers and let them know I was here.

A minute before Thor appeared, Natasha entered like a hurricane of red hair and agile movements. She remained standing, but close to Clint Barton. She said nothing.

A thunder without lightning or rain and the next moment Thor was just outside. I opened the window to let him in and he landed way more softly than one would expect from someone with his body.

"I'm here, brother. I came as soon as you called."

"I can see that." I cleared my throat and continued. "Are you prepared to honour your promise? Will you help me get to Jörmungandr?"

Thor seemed to be taken a little aback by the question, but recovered rapidly. "Yes, I will assist you as much as I can."

I looked at him again, assessing the value of his words. "Good." I turned and left the room. "I'll be staying for a while, so don't go anywhere. Is my old room still prepared?"

I heard Clint comment that my old room was Stark's bedroom, but I chose to ignore that.

I entered one of the many empty rooms the Tower had, the farthest I could get from Stark's. It would be unwise to get close to him. I had work to do, and little to no time to lose.

I couldn't get any real work done yet, though. I had just arrived, and the Avengers would suspect if I started poking around in their vaults. Or SHIELD's. So I had to wait for some time, socialise, play along and all that.

"Jarvis, if I ask you to do something, will you do it?"

"That depends on what that something is, Mr Laufeyson" replied the machine.

"Notify me when Stark arrives to the Tower."

"I will."

"Thanks" I muttered.

I took another shower, just to kill the time. I would go out of my room later, when all of the Avengers were here.

When I got out, a towel in my hands to dry myself, I found the redhead spy waiting for me outside. She was unfazed at my nakedness, and stared at me with squinting eyes.

"Can I help you?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know what you are doing here, but I will find out."

"No need to pry. I am here because my brother promised me he would help me free my children." I grinned, reminding her who _my brother_ was. I didn't like to depend on Thor, but he is someone you don't want to get on the bad side of.

Her expression didn't change. "Why now?"

"Why not?"

"Amora is still under the protection of SHIELD."

"I am well aware of that. But her presence is not something I will have to endure."

"You won't kill her" Natasha warned.

"I won't. She's a necessary evil."

"Good." She turned and headed for the door. "Fury has called you. Get ready; we're leaving in ten minutes."

She exited the room and I was left alone. I took my time to dry my body and look at myself in the mirror before I actually conjured some clothes. Asgardian clothes, as opposed to what I had been wearing lately. One can't just go on hiding in Asgardian clothes.

I looked at the time. Only half an hour. Tsk.

I opened the door of the room and there she was. Romanoff was still standing outside, completely immobile, a slight frown tainting her features.

She led me through the corridors until we reached the lift, where she selected the roof floor. _Oh?_

There was a black helicopter waiting, the blades rotating slowly, but fast enough to make Fury's coat swirl.

"What the fuck took you so long?" he barked.

"I was in the shower." I shrugged.

"No you weren't." Then he produced some handcuffs from under his coat. They had runes that limited my magic, probably one of the products of their collaboration with The Enchantress.

"Thor won't be happy about that."

"I couldn't care less about his opinion."

"Neither will be Odin" I added. This time Fury didn't reply, but he put the handcuffs away. I smiled. So Odin was needed to persuade him.

We got into the helicopter and it took off. After a short journey, we landed in SHIELD's main facility in the state. We went in, Fury ahead and Natasha behind me.

Another little trip across corridors and the director stopped in front of a door, where he swiped a card and punched in a code. The door opened with a low whishing sound and the man stepped inside.

I did the same and the door closed behind Natasha, locking us three inside, with the man who already was in there before.

He was tied to a chair, but looked unharmed otherwise. His blond hair was dirty and so were his clothes. How long had he been there? A month, more? I didn't exactly know how long I had spent with Sherlock in the cottage, but it should be around the month, a bit more maybe. And during all that time we had been alone and carefree, he had been locked here, suffering and not knowing why he was there of what had happened on the previous couple of days.

Oh, John Watson.

I am not sorry at all.

"Who is this?" I asked. The soldier looked at me, surprised for a moment. Fortunately, he was able to conceal it quickly enough.

"His name is John Watson. British army doctor."

"And I'm here because?" I asked, irritated. I hadn't thought he could still be here, I had assumed SHIELD would kill him or something, and when I couldn’t make contact with him from Sherlock’s flat, I had been sure. SHIELD wasn’t one for mercy or humanity. Now I would have to liberate him so he could go back to Sherlock. Then he would tell him he was not Jim's sp—No. I couldn't let that happen. My whole plan could fall apart if Sherlock believed his entertainment wasn't a spy.

But I could also turn the tables of this situation and use it to my advantage. Yes, I could use it to strengthen Sherlock's idea of his little lover being a spy. If only I could plant the idea in John's mind… I just needed a bit of magic.

"Because you know him" Fury replied sharply.

"Me? I am sorry, but I haven't seen this human in my life. I do not associate with idiots."

"He has admitted to knowing you" Natasha interceded.

"Under what methods?" I asked. "Most humans break under your attentions, Agent Romanoff."

"Did you break under my attentions?" she asked.

"I don't know, did I?" She narrowed her eyes but didn't give a reply. "Anyway, if I'm not here to get information via magic from him I don't know why I'm here. I don't know this human, so you can kill him or free him or whatever. I couldn't care less."

Natasha raised an eyebrow questioningly, but Fury silenced her with a look.

"That's actually a good idea. Call the Enchantress; she'll get what we need."

No. _No no no._

"Now do you _really_ want to do that? She has no care and she'll probably end up frying his brain before he can say anything" I commented. "She lacks finesse."

“I thought you didn’t care” Fury said.

“I don’t, but I do care for work well done.”

Fury sighed and rolled his eye in a dramatic gesture. "Fine. Do it yourself."

I suppressed a grin and approached the doctor. He was on alert, suspicion and fear tainting his features. I placed my hands on his temples and closed my eyes, softly murmuring.

They had no way of knowing what I was doing, which was a huge point to my advantage. I entered his mind softly, poking first to test the resistance, but they must have drugged him, because his mind was hazy and his opposition weak. Then I navigated through his memories, writing over them.

I made little changes, enough to alter them, but they remained as truthful to the original ones as possible. Empty periods of time when he had been alone, I filled them with reunions with Jim. Conversations with Sherlock, I implanted thoughts about getting useful information for Moriarty. John's feelings for the detective, I twisted them to make them impure and calculated to make Sherlock vulnerable.

I made him a spy.

I also put a spell on him to make him speak parts of the truth. Or what he believed to be the truth.

Once I finished, I stepped back. "Done."

"John Watson, is that right?" Fury started.

"Yes, sir" came the automatic reply.

"Do you know Loki?" he asked, pointing at me.

"Not personally. But I do know someone who does."

"And who would that be?"

"James Moriarty, Sir. My boss." John was starting to look alarmed by then, but luckily the agents would take that as bewilderment at being forced to tell the truth.

"Can you contact him?"

"No, it was him who always got in touch with me."

"Does he know you are here?"

"Probably, it's been too long without a report. He must know something is wrong."

"What do you do for him?"

"I spy a man he has interest in. I live with him and pretend to be his lover. Then I tell everything to Moriarty" John answered dutifully.

"What would happen if we killed you now?"

"Probably nothing, but I would advise you freed me with a GPS, so I can get back to my life and you will be able to find Moriarty." John was sweating and trembling, trying to contain the words. It was no use, though.

Natasha looked at Fury and nodded. Then she exited the cell with the director. I could hear their whispered words from where I was standing.

"The address Holmes gave is a dead end. It was a fake. We need something new to find him" murmured the redhead. "I hate to be the one to suggest this, but we could use magic. Loki, if not Amora.”

"Loki is already here. He'll do it. If he wants to stay, he'll do it."

With that they entered the room again. Fury looked at me in the eye and nodded. I nodded back and turned to the soldier. I waved my hand and a GPS appeared. It was a microchip, and had barely a square centimetre of surface. I pressed it against his chest and it pierced the skin and organs until stopping by his lungs and heart. Even though he wanted to remove it, he wouldn't be able to do so without my magic.

Then I touched him on the forehead and he disappeared from the cell.

"What the fuck have you done Loki? Who the fuck do you think you are? Where the fuck is he now?" Fury roared.

"I thought I had to send him to his boss" I observed innocently. Actually I had sent him to Sherlock after erasing his memories about the microchip.

Fury massaged his temples in exasperation.

"SHIELD would take care of that, you idiot."

"Do not speak to me in such a manner" I hissed. "I am not one of your humans to insult."

With that I exited the now empty cell and teleported back to the Tower. I didn't want to explain why I had teleported the soldier myself. It would include lies, and frankly, I had more important things to do than have fun.


	40. The One Who Has Been Lying All This Time

I didn't have to wait for long until John appeared in the living room. I was sitting on my chair when he did, stumbling a little bit and looking like hell.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

John blinked a couple of times, massaging his temples with a pained expression. It took him some more moments to recompose and become aware of his surroundings.

"Sherlock?" he said, his voice hoarse.

"Yes. I assume Loki has sent you here."

"He…" John frowned, trying to remember. "I don't know. I think he did. But I can't…"

Interesting. Maybe the teleporting had left him confused? John had travelled like that before and hadn't suffered any secondary effect, though.

"Okay, what do you remember? I need you to focus" I asked.

"I was in a cell. SHIELD kept me there" he answered after thinking about it for some moments.

"Yes, I know. What did they want from you? Did they ask about Loki? About me?"

"Yes. No. No, they didn't ask about you or Loki, but you appeared. They wanted to know about Jim."

That was it. Moriarty. And the fact that he had called him Jim couldn't be a good sign.

"Jim?" I repeated, just to be sure. "Jim Moriarty?"

"Yes, who else could it be?" He then looked at me and sighed. "Listen, I have to tell you something, but please hear me out to the end."

_Oh no._

_Well this is what you wanted, isn't it? The answer. The truth._

_That doesn't mean I have to like it._

"Are you Moriarty's spy?" I asked right away. I could at least be the one who said it out loud. It gave me a sense of control over the situation.

"Wait, I… How long have you known?" His voice denoted surprise. He hadn't even thought I could have guessed.

_You hadn't until Loki pointed it out._

"I thought it was an option when Loki came to rescue me and told me you had done nothing while I was locked up" I explained, each word painfully real spoken out loud.

John swallowed.

"We meeting wasn't casual, was it?"

"No, it wasn't. Jim… Moriarty told me to get close to you. I thought living with you would be the easier way."

"So nothing was real?" I breathed.

"I'm sorry."

" _I'm sorry_? That's all you have to say?" I sneered, suddenly enraged.

_I trusted you._

_You were my friend. My best friend._

_How could you?_

None of those phrases came out of my mouth, though. I felt unable to speak. Dumb. There was a lump in my throat and I wanted it gone. But I couldn’t get rid of it.

_I loved you._

That last one slipped into my mind, and I was surprised by it. By the tense.

"You were so desperate to make a friend you didn't even consider I could not be one" he attacked.

I wanted, more than anything, to claw my throat open and loosen the knot in it. But I couldn't.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, I really am. But I was working. It's nothing personal."

"It's nothing personal? It is personal! How can this not be personal?"

"Sherlock, calm down" he didn't need to pretend anymore. He didn't have to put up a face. He didn't have to pretend he cared. So he didn't. "I know this is difficult, but please, calm down. This is not your fault."

"I know it's not my fault. It's yours" I accused. "You are the spy, you are the one who has been lying to me all this time. Don't you even try to blame me for your actions."

John took a deep breath and straightened his back slightly. Soldier mode on. Maybe he had been a soldier after all.

"I am not blaming you" he said, his voice even and emotionless. "But you need to understand why I did this, or you won't be able to go on."

"I know why you did this. Because you're a fucking moron who lies and manipulates to get information. You even pretended to fall in love with me, by God's sake."

_I can't believe I felt bad about wanting to be with Loki. He has never lied to me, which is more than can be said of John._

The man looked away for a moment.

"So no correcting me. Then I'm right. _Everything_ was a lie."

"You're always right" he muttered.

"Flattery won't get you anywhere now" I warned.

He didn't answer and I was too worked up to say anything else. I knew I would start attacking him the moment I opened my mouth. Which he deserved.

"At least you know now" he said at last.

"John, it doesn't work that way." I made a pause. "If that is even your real name."

"John, yes. Watson, not so much" he confessed.

So an ex-soldier named John, now spy. Medical knowledge, true. Feelings, false. Personality, false, as far as I had seen of the real one.

"Great. So please explain me what you told Moriarty."

"I can't do that."

"You came here. You confessed you are a spy for Moriarty and that everything I know about you is a lie, and you _can't_ tell me what you told Moriarty about me?" I arched an eyebrow, crossing my arms.

"I came to explain because I know you like Loki, and I know you, and I know you couldn't be with him if you still were with me. So I wanted to free you from that burden that is John Watson." He looked me in the eye before continuing. "I did not come to discuss Jim. He is my boss, end of the story. You don't need to know more."

"Oh, so you came to _help_ me. How considerate of you. Stop pretending you care."

"I'm not heartless, Sherlock. I don't love you, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

"So now you do care. Why? What's the point?" I screamed, over the edge.

Hearing him say it, actually saying _I don't love you_ , that made it real. Not him admitting he is a spy, not the pieces clicking into place as his story unravelled. Not even Moriarty saying it, not Loki suspecting it. No.

_I don't love you._

_I don't love you._

_I don't love you._

Those four words. They echoed in my mind, empty now. I couldn't think about anything else. Just that.

_I don't love you._

They entered my body all the way to its very core, taking root into my bones, poisoning my blood, making my heart stop.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to punch him, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay, but I knew that wasn't going to happen. This was real. There was no going back.

_I don't love you._

Nothing between us had been real. He didn't love me. He didn't care. He just wanted to get information to give his boss.

"There is no point. I just think you deserve to be happy."

"You've done a great job so far, lying to me about everything and spying me to my archenemy. "

I felt empty. Hollow. There was a hole in my heart and it hurt. A black hole, a void, sucking all the joy I had felt because of John Watson.

"Go" I muttered, my voice shaking.

"Sherlock" he said with a sigh.

"Go" I repeated, with more authority this time. "I don't want to see you again."

He sighed again and left slowly.

Suddenly the air became heavier, thicker. I gasped, but I found it hard to breathe. I couldn't breathe right. _What is happening?_ I looked around, but there was nobody there.

_You're having a panic attack_ , said a voice in my head. _You need to calm down._

_How, genius?_

_Take a deep breath and hold it for a couple of seconds before exhaling._

I was hyperventilating and that wasn't easy, but I tried breathing deeply, once and again. I felt like I was going to die. My life was spiralling out of my control.

I felt dizzy, with nausea. Everything was horrible. I was going to die there. I was hot; no, I was cold. I didn't know.

I sat on the floor to stop the dizziness, but it didn't help as much as I had expected, so I curled up on the floor.

I kept breathing, and after some eternal and terrible minutes, I felt the pressure in my chest lighten. I could breathe again, and that definitely helped with the feeling of imminent death.

Still, it took me several more minutes to calm down. The effects faded off eventually and I was left exhausted and sweaty in the floor. I just lay there, trying to recover completely.

Now that I was calmer, I could think more clearly. And everything was crystal clear. This wasn't all John's fault. It was Jim's. He was the mind behind everything. He was to blame. This was his fault.

And he would pay.

I would finish this now, for once and for all. No more games, no more hiding, no more dances. This was it.

I got up and took my coat before going out and taking a taxi.

The Game is on, James.


	41. Promises, Distractions & Permission

Once back in the Tower I stormed out into the lounge, where I hoped to find Thor. Fortunately, I did. I didn't want to be interrogated by any of the other Avengers there, which would have happened if I hadn't taken Thor with me straightaway.

I grabbed his forearm and practically dragged him out of the room. Then I teleported us both to a higher floor, which was empty.

"What is the matter, brother?" he asked worriedly.

"You made me a promise. It's time to fulfil it."

He suddenly straightened his back and raised his chin proudly.

"I'm glad you asked for my help." He smiled widely. "I will do what's in my hand."

"You can start by talking to Odin. He won't listen to me, but he will pay attention to you" I observed bitterly.

"I doubt he'll just change his mind, brother."

"You'll be king one day. You must be able to convince if you desire to maintain the peace among the Realms." I made a pause. "You have to be able to convince even Odin."

"I will try" he said solemnly. "But I suggest we think of other ways."

"Thor, _other ways_ means territory you are not familiar with."

"I know. But I will do it, whatever it takes. I made a promise, bother, and I intent to keep it." He looked at me in the eye, completely serious. "I am not an idiot, Loki. I understand that not everything our father does is right; I can think for myself."

"Well that's an improvement" I commented sarcastically.

"Don't mock me, Loki. I am trying to be serious" he said, looking slightly hurt.

"I don't mock you. I genuinely think it's an improvement."

His expression lost the hurt edge, but he didn't say anything.

"You must convince him. If there's someone who can; that's you." Not even Frigga could change his mind about that. Not if it had anything to do with me.

"Father won't change his mind easily once he has made a decision. But I shall do my best" he said determinedly.

"Thank you, brother" I replied carefully, unsure of what reaction the name would provoke.

His face lit up with hope and delight.

"I will make him see the error of his ways. Fate can be changed, for people can change." He beamed a smile at me. "You're proof of that."

I smiled a bit too, infected by him.

"You've changed too" I observed. That was true; he had come a long way to where he was now, to whom he was now.

"I have" he admitted. "But I wouldn't have been able to without my friends and you, brother."

"Don't forget about Jane." Mentioning her by name would make him think I liked her, which was a point in my favour.

"And my beloved Jane." He laughed. "I'm really grateful for the path our lives have taken, brother."

Suddenly, he hugged me tightly, leaving me breathless for a moment.

"Thor. Thor, let go. That's going to leave bruises."

After some more moments he let go, still smiling.

"I will depart now then. The sooner I speak to the Allfather the sooner I will be back with news."

_Let's hope they are good news._

"Goodbye then" I said goodbye.

Thor walked out to the balcony and reached out to call for Mjölnir, which came through the wall a moment later.

I didn't even know why Stark bothered fixing the walls and windows.

A second later a lightning struck, followed by thunder, and he wasn't there anymore.

I turned and smiled wickedly. Now the fool would be busy with Odin and so he wouldn't be observing me. I could hide from Heimdall's eyes, but even if he saw me —which he would; the spell for concealing my presence from him required too much magic as to not be detected by SHIELD, and they would think I was up to something—, he wouldn't pay attention to me. My sentence was mostly over; an exhaustive watch on my being wasn't necessary.

Or maybe it was, now that I was free and had part of my magic restored. But Odin underestimated me; I doubted I was being observed any more than the minimum.

Anyway, the Allfather would be too occupied with Thor's request. I honestly didn't think it would be of use, but Thor's influence had increased after the last events, so maybe Odin would be pressed into giving in. That would be wonderful.

Yes, it was a distraction. But that doesn't mean it couldn't be useful too.

I rushed back to the room I had settled in and sat on the bed, crossing my legs and closing my eyes. I breathed deeply to maintain the magic level to the minimum and started murmuring softly. It was a locator spell, but I had no physical anchor to make a starting point, so it would be more difficult than usual. And it would require more magic than usual.

I couldn't let the Avengers know I was practicing magic. Not that they would know how to put two and two together, but a spell as long as this would raise suspicion.

I moved my hands in the air, in acute and fast movements, necessary to perform this spell. Then I concentrated on where the technology was stored. There was some in the Tower itself, but most was in charge of SHIELD, so it was in their facilities.

"Mr Laufeyson, I inform you that Mr Stark has just returned from a mission with Dr Banner" announced Jarvis suddenly, making me open my eyes.

_Stark is here?_

"Thank you, Jarvis" I murmured, absorbed into my thoughts.

The spell would have to wait. First I had to have a nice chat with Tony. Even if the Tower was Avengers HQ, it was technically the Stark Tower. So I would probably have to sweet talk him to stay. Probably. I could always just stay. That could do too.

So I got up and went to find Stark. He was probably already in the workshop, not even minding to put off his suit completely.

I did find him in the workshop, but surprisingly he didn't have any piece of the armour on.

I entered without knocking and cleared my throat.

"Hello Stark" I greeted.

He raised his gaze from the table.

"Loki? Why are you here now?" He sounded resigned, weary.

"Didn't your teammates told you I was here?" I asked.

"I have no seen them. I came straight here."

"Of course you did." I moved closer to him, but remained at a safe distance. I didn't want to give him false hopes. "Well, Thor promised me he would help me with an issue of mine, so I'm here to make him stick to his word."

"What issue?" Tony asked suspiciously.

"Free my children" I replied. Stark knew I had children, I had told him. But even if I hadn't, he could have known by those horrendous myths humans have.

"I see. And why do you worry about them now?"

"If what you're implying is that I didn't worry about my children before, Stark, let me remind you that I couldn't go to help them. I was imprisoned" I spit out the words like venom. No one could tell me I didn't love my children. No one. I glared at him, my nostrils flaring with rage. "I came here to ask for your permission to stay, but seeing as you just want to insult me, I don't need it. I'll do as I please."

I started to leave, but the door locked before I could get out. I turned to hiss at Stark but he grabbed me by the arm and pushed me. It took me by surprise and so I stumbled backwards until I encountered the wall. I hit my head with it, and I felt dizzy.

"That's not why you're here, Loki, and we both know that." Tony was really close; his both arms at both sides of my body as a cage.

"Let go of me, Anthony. Right now" I warned.

"Or what?"

"Or you'll wish you were dead." He still didn't move a muscle, so I moved my hand to make a little magic to send him flying across the room, for example.

Nothing happened.

I tried again, but it didn't work. I frowned lightly before covering it. Stark laughed.

"You don't have you magic now, Loki? What a pity."

"What have you done?" I hissed.

"Calm down, Loki. It's just a magic blocker. One of my latest toys" he explained, pressing his body against mine.

"Let go of me, Anthony" I repeated.

"Hush, baby. I know why you're here." He slipped his hand into my pants and I gasped when he grabbed my cock. "I know you want this."

No. I didn't want this. I didn't even remotely want this. No. This was wrong. This was so wrong.

"Stark" I said. A single word, an implicit command. He hesitated but didn't back off, so I raised my hand and placed it on his chest, just over the arc reactor. I looked at him and grinned slyly. He mirrored the gesture, thinking I would follow his game.

Suddenly, I gripped him by his neck and lifted him from the ground. He gasped for air, fighting fruitlessly against my hand.

With my other hand, I pressed and twisted gently the arc reactor, and took it out when I heard the characteristic click.

"So, how long until you die without your shiny device?" I asked rhetorically, examining the object in my free hand.

"Loki, please" he begged, almost too quietly for me to hear him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Would you mind repeating it a bit louder, dear?"

"I… can't breathe."

"Wrong answer." I tightened my grasp.

"Loki, please, I'm sorry" he whined, twisting in a futile attempt at freeing himself.

"That's better" I acknowledged, putting the blue device back into his chest.

Tony sighed in relief when his feet touched the ground again, but then I pushed him. He hit the opposite wall, landing with a dull thud.

"Do not forget I need no magic to kill you, _human_."

With that I walked out of the room, the door now unlocked. I may not be as strong as Thor, but o still am way stronger than any mortal. Even though I favour my magic and knives, I am not helpless in close range combat.

I pressed the lift button frantically, but it took too long to arrive, so I ended up teleporting instead. Apparently Tony's magic blocker only worked in his workshop, or maybe he had turned it off.

I slammed the door of my room behind me and locked it. I was hyperventilating, and I didn't anyone to see me like that.

It had gone too far, and I saw that now. I had let him take control for too long, and he now felt entitled to claim that power when he wanted to, but it wasn't that way. I wasn't going to let him just have what he wanted when he wanted. I had stated quite clearly I didn't want to continue our relationship, but apparently I hadn't got the point across.

I needed to calm down, or else I would go back to the workshop and do a lot more than just scaring Stark.

I conjured a bowl from the kitchen —I didn't feel like going out of the room— and filled it with water from the bathroom. Magic always calmed me down. It was a welcome release of energy; one I would appreciate right now.

I sat on the bed, my legs crossed and the bowl of water between them. I murmured softly as I placed my hands just above the surface. An image started to appear, blurry at first, but it started to sharpen as the spell took effect.

Sherlock was on a cab, staring out of the window with deadly determination. It was such a sight to behold. The light entered through the window and poured over his face, giving certain areas a shine and leaving others in shadow. He was biting his thumb distractedly.

I wondered where he was going, and even more with such determination. But it didn't really matter to me. I was seeing him and that was all I needed right now. I didn't talk to him; just admiring him gave me an exceptional opportunity to study his features.

By the Norns, I really liked him.


	42. The One In Love With A Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God I'm so so so so incredibly sorry but I've been doing exams nonstop for the last three months and I haven't had any free time and oh god I feel awful but I'll make it up to you, I promise.
> 
> P.S: Hey, guess who's spending July in England? Spoiler alert: me. I'm so excited ^^

The trip by taxi seemed eternal and momentary at the same time. I spent the whole time thinking about what I would say to Moriarty once I found him.

It was his fault. John was a spy because of him. We had met because of him. I had fallen in love with him because of Moriarty.

He would pay. He would pay for everything he had done to me. At first I even welcomed the games; the entertainment. I was bored, and he was finally a good puzzle. But not anymore. I was sick of his endless games and tricks. I would end this.

The police could do nothing, but I knew someone who could. SHIELD. I wouldn't call them just yet. Hell, I didn't even know how to contact them. But I would figure out a way. Once I had spoken to Jim.

The taxi came to a halt in front of the building where Moriarty had been the last time. I paid the driver and turned to face the building.

I breathed deeply before going for the doorbell, but I saw the door was open, so I just entered. After taking the lift I stood in front of his door for a couple of seconds.

This was a trap. I know it was. It always was with Moriarty. But I didn't care, not now. It was his fault. Everything I had lived with John Watson was a lie. His own existence was a lie. He wasn't even John Watson. That wasn't his name. That wasn't his personality.

It wasn't him.

I was in love with a lie.

Finally I knocked the door with more force than necessary. Jim opened it, a wicked grin spread across his features when he saw me.

"Well, well, look who we have here. Are you lost?"

"This is your fault" I muttered. Now that I had the opportunity to confront him, to face him for what he'd done, I couldn't find my voice. Great. I cleared my throat subtly and repeated. "It's your fault."

"I'm sure it is, dear, and you're welcome, by the way, but what is my fault?" he mocked in a singsong voice, stepping aside to let me in.

"John. He was your spy all along."

"Yes he was." He looked proud of the fact. "One of my best works, isn't him? You never suspected."

"I didn't" I conceded.

I felt stupid. I felt like I should have known. It was so obvious now. Every piece was falling into place perfectly, just to reveal the big scheme of Moriarty. Me. I was his entertainment. I silently laughed without humour. Loki called John _my_ entertainment, and I was Moriarty's. Oh, the irony. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Now the cat’s out of the bag, Sherlock. What will you do?"

I looked up at him with as much rage and hate as I could muster.

"Revenge."

Jim clapped excitedly like a child.

"That sounds fun. I can't wait until it starts. Will it be against the big bad spy John or against me? I can't decide which one I'd prefer."

"You won't be so excited when it’s over. You'll wish you hadn't crossed paths with me."

"Oh my, you've really been spending a lot of time with Loki, haven't you?" he observed, oblivious to my threat.

"Precisely he'll help me get my revenge." Including the God of Mischief into my threats couldn't be bad, right? I doubted anything got to Moriarty, though. He didn't feel at all. He was always this twisted five-year-old. I had yet to see him have a normal emotion.

"Drop the attitude, darling. It doesn't suit you" he said, crunching his nose. "Maybe if you went bad" he added, making the _maybe_ impossibly long.

"Like you?" I asked sarcastically.

He shrugged but didn't answer me. Then he poured tea in two teacups he already had on the table. Did he know I was coming? Could John have already contacted him?

_Of course he has. He tells James everything. He always has._

I didn't have the strength anymore to tell that voice inside of my head to shut up.

Jim sat on the armchair and pointed to the sofa in front of him for me to sit while sipping distractedly on his cup.

"As nice as it is to have you pay a visit, Sherlock, I still don't know why you're here."

_That makes two of us_ , I thought.

I didn't even know why I was here. I wanted to blame him, yes. I wanted to end this. But I couldn't. Not in such a short time, and without any preparation whatsoever. Why had I come here then? To mourn? To complain?

_To warn him,_ came the reply in my head.

"I just came to warn you. I will get my revenge. So be prepared, because when it does come, and I can assure you that it will, you'll wish you were dead."

"I already wish I were dead. All I hear is blah, blah, yawn, blah. You make me want to kill myself" he mocked, completely oblivious to my words.

"Do it then. Make the world a favour."

He made a face. "It would be boring. Alive I have you, and our little god. That's entertainment. Better than dead."

"What a pity" I commented, and got up. "We'll be seeing each other then."

I straightened my coat and buttoned my jacket before leaving.

It hadn't been a trap after all. Maybe he just wanted to relish in the view of my desolation. That would certainly be a lot like Moriarty.

I took a cab back to Baker Street, wanting to go home as soon as possible. Now that John wasn't there it felt different, empty. Somehow everything seemed out of place.

I had been there alone before, of course. Like the time just before Loki went to the Avengers Tower to free John. But then I didn't know what I know now about him. I suspected it, but I didn't have the certainty. No, cross that out, I didn't _want_ to have the certainty.

It was undeniable, though. The weight of the truth came crumbling down on me, and I couldn't take it. But I had to, if I wanted to help Loki. I didn't even know if he still wanted his things back, the staff and the helmet. At least he knew now that Moriarty had them. He would get them when he completed whatever mission James had for him. I doubted that even Moriarty could kill him when he was of no use.

I crashed on the sofa and closed my eyes for a moment. Another. Yet another. The moments succeeded each other but I couldn't sleep. For one, the sofa was uncomfortable for sleeping, but I was too altered as to rest.

A voice spoke from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, but I just registered its existence and didn't paid attention to it. It spoke again, with more insistence.

"What?" I answered.

As a reply I got an exasperated grunt. "I said get up."

"Why?" I asked in return to the familiar voice. "And where are you, Loki?"

"Still in Avengers Tower. I am afraid I will have to stay a bit longer than expected."

"Why?" I repeated. "It was easy; you go in, you get what you want and you get out. What part did you fuck up?"

"None" he hissed. "My dear _brother_ kindly offered to help me get to my children; I am merely taking the opportunity to do something for benefit."

"I see" I commented, even though I was disappointed by that. I had expected to have the god back soon. "How long will you be there, then?"

"I love it when you're concerned" he purred, but his voice changed rapidly. "I am sorry about John."

"You were the one who freed him, weren't you?"

"Yes. He was a prisoner of SHIELD and they asked me to find out what he knew, so I read through his memories and discovered the truth. I mean, we already suspected it, but we didn't _know_ for sure… They thought it would be better to free him and keep Moriarty monitored in case he came back."

"You just called to tell me you're sorry about John?" I asked sceptically.

"Actually, that was a second thought decision" Loki explained. "I wanted to tell you this would take longer than expected, and ask for your permission to make the mental link bidirectional. That way we could talk without needing to do this."

"You could use a phone like humans do, you know."

"It wouldn't be nearly as much fun. Besides, phones leave traces."

"Alright. You have my permission. Do whatever you need to do." I moved my hand in a dismissal gesture that gave permission.

I heard a quiet sigh and then a hushed chain of words. A moment later I felt a conscience tapping my own, examining the resistance. I forced myself to calm down, even though all my instincts told me to put my guard up.

The conscience —Loki's conscience, or magic, or something— started working inside of my mind. It released a warm sensation; not hot enough for it to be uncomfortable, though. When it retreated I didn't feel any different, but then I started to feel the connection, like a distant compartment in my mind.

_Hello, Sherlock._

It still was kind of a shock to have Loki talk directly into my mind, even though he had already done so in the past.

_Hello,_ I tried to answer, but I wasn't sure if how to do it.

_You need to concentrate so I can hear you. Otherwise the message will be really quiet and with a lot of static_ , Loki explained. I heard him loud and clear. _Try again_.

I took a deep breath to focus on what I was going to say. What was I even going to say? I doubted that mattered as much as the way of saying it. It hardly ever did.

_What about this?_ , I asked.

_Better. We'll practise on your concentration._

_My concentration is great and you've seen it._

_I'll make it even better. We'll see if you can focus on… distracting scenarios_. I could sense the grin in his face, and a mental image flashed in my mind for a moment.

_Okay, cutting the conversation now before you take advantage of my being new to this and turn my mind into your personal porn gallery._

He laughed. _Oh Sherlock, you already are my personal porn gallery._

_I have better things to do than listen to you say porn in my head._

_You've said porn more times than I have. Wait, not anymore._

_You've done that on purpose._

_Childish god who can't even get over the word porn._

_But you love me._

I sensed the tension in him when he realised he had said that, and I was a bit tense too, but I decided to let that pass as a joke.

_Whatever you say. Still childish._

He relaxed. _I am a thousand years older than you are, human_. He didn't say human condescendingly, though. It was in a playful manner.

_Childishness doesn't have anything to do with age, dear._

_If that helps you sleep at night._

_It does._ He was silent for a moment before speaking again. _I have to go. We'll talk later._

_Goodbye,_ he answered.


	43. Heartbreak, Company & Distraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me.  
> I've had the worst writer's block ever. It has literally taken me six months to finish a chapter.   
> Also, I've started university (don't congratulate me, this shit is fucking hard), which means I have to study every day for real. It's not something you say you'll do but then you don't. This is real and it makes my procrastinating soul cry.

I heard someone approaching from the corridor and said goodbye to Sherlock before they knocked on the door. Their footsteps were light, but I could hear them, so that rules out the redhead. They weren't Thor's or Tony's either; I knew them both quite well and they weren't those. I doubted Bruce would want to converse and Clint was too lazy for even coming to my room to talk. That left the good old Captain.

I wondered what he wanted as I waited for him to knock the door, but he didn't. He stood by my door, just outside, but silent. Eventually he sighed and turned around, leaving from where he had come.

Well that was unexpected. Inconvenient, also. Now I was curious to know what he wanted. The Captain wasn't one to waste his time with chit chat, so he had to have a reason for coming.

First I would finish —and start— the locator spell I needed. I sat on the bed again and closed my eyes to concentrate better. Steve wouldn't be back, he had already had his chance and he had decided not to talk to me. I would discover what he wanted, but I wouldn't be bothered for now. At least not by him.

I focused on what I needed to find, and let the magic flow through me. I modulated how much magic I used, though. Better safe than sorry.

I murmured softly the spell as I waved my fingers lazily, and after some moment an image started to reveal itself behind my eyelids.

It was a dim lit room, stocked ceiling high with black crates, each one of them with an identification number. One of the boxes picked my attention, as if it were glowing. I memorised the identification number and quickly moved to the next one.

The vision changed. Now it was another room, very much the same as the previous one, but it wasn't exactly the same. The boxes were of different shapes, even though they still were made of the same black material. Once again, one stood out. I memorised that one too before the vision changed once more.

The third box object wasn't in the same warehouse as the other two. It was much closer; in the Tower. I recognised the room from a time when Stark had brought me there to fuck me without being interrupted. The bug twitched in its glass case, unable to get out of the sphere where it was prisoner. I smiled and stopped the spell. Now I knew where everything was. I didn't have to remember the exact location of the objects I needed for Jim. Part of the locator spell was that knowledge.

First things first, though. I could not barge in SHIELD property without at least a minimum of preparation.

I went to the lounge to eat something; I hadn't spent that much magic but I wasn’t at my best and controlling the magic level and being constantly aware of it was draining. So I was hungry.

I found Steve there, at the kitchen counter, a half-eaten plate in front of him. He nodded in my direction as a greeting and I mirrored his gesture to seem polite. Then I picked up an apple a bit it distractedly. I stood there, leaning against the counter for support as I nibbled at the fruit.

I cleared my throat before speaking, to catch the Captain's attention.

"Did you wish to speak to me?" I asked.

Steve looked up and didn't try to look surprised. "Eh, yes. How did you know I wanted to talk to you?"

"I heard you walking down the corridor and come to a halt in front of my door." I shrugged.

"Oh" he said, more of a breath than an actual word.

"So, what did you want?" I arched an eyebrow in impatience and curiosity.

"I just wanted to ask you how you are doing. These last weeks must have been a hurricane. I know ours have been."

"They have indeed been agitated, but nothing I hadn't experienced before." I made a pause. "Thanks for asking."

"I hope you can go back to normal now. Tony hasn't been quite himself lately. With you leaving, and then Pepper… I'm afraid it might be too much for him. You two are the only two people who really made a difference in him" he explained.

I saw perfectly where he wanted to go with that, but I wouldn't play along. I didn't love Stark anymore, and his last overture had definitely slammed the door for a casual affair.

"He's a grown man and will have to manage on his own. I won't be taking care of his messes; he has to do that himself."

Steve said nothing for a couple of minutes in which I finished eating the apple. I threw the core on the bin and was about to leave when Steve spoke again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and I knew he wasn't referring to my overall state.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, not quite knowing what he meant.

He looked away before speaking. "Jarvis told me what just happened between you and Tony."

"That's none of your business" I said sharply, cutting off what he was about to say with a glare.

Steve sighed. "Just, if you want to talk about it…"

“I don't."

With that I turned and left. Great. Now Captain America knew about it too. I didn't want him talking to Stark, even if it was to chastise him. I just wanted to forget about all this as soon as possible. And sure as hell I didn't want to talk about it.

Once back in my room I called Jarvis.

"Yes, sir?" he answered.

"Who else did you tell about what Stark has done?"

"Just Mr Rogers, sir. I thought it was appropriate if he knew about one of his teammates' erratic behaviour." _Erratic behaviour_. That was one way to put it. "I'd like to apologise for locking the door earlier, but Mr Stark wouldn't listen to my advice. I am sorry."

I clenched my teeth.

"I forgive you, Jarvis." I knew how important was to receive forgiveness in an explicit way. Actually said it out loud. Even for a robot. "But don't ever tell anyone again about that. Or any other thing happening between Stark and I."

"I understand, sir, and I will do as you say."

"Good."

Jarvis stayed silent, which meant he had stopped paying attention until someone called him.

I used that moment to talk to Sherlock. I didn't really have anything to do until I came up with a plan for stealing what I needed.

_Hello, Sherlock._

A couple if moments later came the reply. _This is still weird._

_You're getting better at it, though._

_I'm good at concentrating._

_I know_. I made a pause to think about what to say next. _I've already located what I need. I think this will take shorter than I expected._

_Great. But can't you use your magic to come before you're finished? If you feel it’s safe, of course_.

_It's safe. I can make sure I won't be found._

He didn't say it with words, but he felt lonely. I could sense his concern through his mind, as he didn't yet control what he sent.

_I can go if you want_ , I proposed, uncertain. Sherlock wasn't usually straightforward with his desires, and he often had to be persuaded even for things he liked.

_Ok, alright,_ he thought. Just be careful.

He didn't say that last part either, but he was so transparent.

_I will be,_ I answered anyway.

_How did you hear that?_

_You sent it._

_No, I didn't._

_Not consciously._ I have a thousand years of experience with this. It is only natural I am more skilled than you are.

_That is not fair._

_Life's not fair, dear._

_Are you really that bored that you even want me to keep you company?,_ I teased.

_You make surprisingly good company_ , he conceded.

_Was that a compliment, Sherlock?_

_I was merely observing a fact._

_I'll take it as one anyway._

There was a pause in which he stopped paying attention to the conversation and started to walk towards what presumably was the bathroom.

_Out of my mind. Now._

I send him a mental pout but backed off nevertheless. I waited a couple of minutes, but he didn't retake the conversation. I started worrying about ten minutes later, so I decided to call him myself.

I received a mix of feelings from him, obviously not sent consciously. There was guilt, rage and oblivion but also excitement and a kind of bliss. The first thing that came to my mind was that he was using again. He had told me about his addiction in one of the nights when we had told each other almost everything about ourselves.

Seeing as there was no conscious answer, I freaked out. I quickly murmured a cloaking spell and a teleporting one came right after. He couldn't do this. How dared he. He had just been speaking to me. How could he do this? I wasn’t going to let him. No. He wouldn't ruin his life for some pusillanimous man he loved. I knew what rock-bottom was and I wouldn't leave him there. But why now? He had just been talking to me. Had I been a trigger? Could I be the cause for this?

I appeared in the kitchen and walked right towards the bedroom. He was there; I could sense his body heat and hear his breathing. I opened the door, not even bothering to knock or some other stupid conventionalism.

"Sherlock" I yelled, before realising what was happening.

He wasn't using. He was masturbating. Apparently, the effects on an emotional level were similar. I should have known.

He opened his eyes and stopped when he saw me. "Well, this is awkward" he said in a slow and apparently calm tone, but his light blush betrayed his façade. "Did you know what I was doing when you came here?"

"I didn't. I actually thought you were using." I averted his gaze, not because of shame, but because I didn't want to see his expression when I said that. He would think I didn't trust him, that I thought he was some kind of child I had to take care of.

"Oh" he simply said, getting up and fixing his dressing gown. "I see why you would think that." He took a couple of steps towards me. "I won't use" he assured me.

I knew he was lying, but I said nothing. He was heartbroken, he was devastated, even if he didn't let it shine through. I could see it. The man he had loved, with whom he had spent years, was a lie. Nothing was real; not the memories, not the feelings, not even the person. He was fighting not to break down, but he was so close.

So I hugged him tightly. That was something Thor did when I was especially vulnerable. He hugged me and showed me he supported me and believed me and in me and cared about me and in short that he loved me. I always found that comforting, even though I wouldn't admit it out loud for a million years.

At first he didn't move, as if unsure of what was to be done in such situations, but his mind quickly worked it out and I felt his arms rise around me to finally return the hug. A warm feeling that had nothing to do with body heat spread in my stomach.

I didn't want to let go, so I didn't. But then I felt Sherlock sobbing in silence. He was crying and clutched to my shirt, his crying becoming louder. I moved my thumb in small circles to soothe him, and Sherlock buried his face in my neck to muffle the sounds.

He finally calmed down enough and let go, but I still placed my hands on his forearms. Physical contact usually helped.

"I'm… I'm sorry. I don't know what…" he hiccupped.

"Hush now, Sherlock. Of course you know what has happened. I understand."

He looked at me with an expression I had never seen on him before. It was as if he saw me for the first time, as if he now realised who I really was.

I led him to the bed so he could sit on the edge, and sat beside him.

"I just didn't expect this. I don't do this. I don't burst into crying."

"Life's full of surprises, Sherlock. I'm a thousand years old and I still get surprised. Every day."

"Every day?" he asked dubiously.

"Maybe not every day, but you get the idea. Every day is a lot of times, now that I think about it."

He smiled a little and I couldn't help but mirror the gesture. Who would have thought I would be comforting someone? This is not the role I've played for so long.

"It would be great to be surprised every day, though."

"Not boring."

"Definitely not boring."

We stayed in silence after that for some minutes.

"You can tell me, if you want" I said tentatively. I did know what had happened in big strokes —after all, I had caused it— but there were still some blanks to fill.

"I… He came, you sent him back, and that's when he told me that… That he was a spy. Moriarty's spy. I felt like an idiot. I fell into his trap and didn't even suspect for a moment."

"Moriarty is manipulative, twisted and evil. But he is also very smart. Don't feel ashamed that he has tricked you."

"It's not that part what affects me most. It should be, looking at it rationally. But it isn't" he looked confused for a second. “I should have known. God, I spent so much time with him, how could I not have seen it? I should have seen it.”

I sighed. "You are heartbroken, Sherlock. Of course you care about John. Of course it's him you are upset about. And even if this seems like a cliché, it’s not your fault. It’s Moriarty’s. And John’s."

He silenced me by putting a finger on my lips. "No, don't talk about him. I don't want to talk about him. I want to move on. I want to focus on the present."

I nodded and the phantom of a smile danced in the corner of his mouth.

"Well then, as I told you before, I have already located what I need. I'll recover it as soon as I can. Then I'll be back.” _With you._ But I omitted that part. He didn’t need any more emotions right now. "And I think I'm not missing anything" I added after thinking for a moment.

"I am" he whispered, so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

"What?" I asked.

“I am missing something.” He raised his gaze before continuing, softly. "You."

_Oh_.

That one I hadn't been expecting. I could sense his fading rage and devastating desolation through the link.

Sherlock leant forward to kiss me, but I backed off. He didn't want this. He was heartbroken and that's why he wanted to forget, to get a distraction. I didn't want to be a distraction. Not anymore.

He looked hurt for a moment by what I had done. "Sherlock, I don't think this is appropriate. You're confused and the grief and rage won't let you think clearly. But this is a mistake. I doubt you'll be back with John —or whatever his name is—, but if you want to be with me I want you to choose it freely and not conditioned by some other person. I will not be your rebound"

"I am not conditioned by anyone."

"You are, Sherlock. I can sense it."

"If you can sense what I feel then you know that's not true."

I took his face in my hand and caressed the cheek lightly. "I know —I feel— your anger, diminishing by moments, being substituted by hurt and pain. I feel your heartbreak, your desperation and your frustration. I can also feel your confusion and yes, attraction towards me." He opened his mouth but I placed a finger over his lips to silence him. "Nothing would make me happier than being with you. But not today. I won't be a distraction for you to forget him.” I looked him in the eyes, so many emotions so clearly displayed behind them. “I'll be back in some days, take your time to process what has happened so you can decide lucidly what you truly want. I'll be waiting."

I took a step backwards, not taking my eyes off his, and after smiling faintly, I teleported out.


	44. The One Who Proved The Reflection Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post a chapter every Sunday until I run out of written chapters, then I'll post whenever I have a new one. So enjoy while you still can.

_I'm sorry_ , was the first thing I thought the morning after Loki's visit at Baker Street.

_I understand_ , came the reply roughly five minutes later. _How are you feeling today?_

I felt bad for him. He had restrained himself yesterday night even though he himself had said that he, and I quote, would want nothing more than being with me. The thought itself warmed me on the inside. But after a night's sleep to think it over and process it, I knew now that he was right. I hadn't been thinking clearly, and as much as I hated it, I had been driven by my emotions. I was not used to them taking control; my mind always won the mind versus matter. I didn't want my first time with Loki to be cheap sex to get my mind off another man.

_How's your plan going?,_ I asked, changing the subject. I didn't sense any anger through the link, although I was new to it and wasn't able to notice much anyway. Instead, I focused on something purely rational to regain some sense of normalcy.

_I hate to wait,_ he complained. _But perfection requires time._

_I know that. It took a whole nine months to create me,_ I joked.

_It takes almost two Midgardian years for the Aesir,_ darling.

_But you are not Aesir,_ I observed. He was Jötunn, after all, even though I had never seen his true form.

_I do not know which is the gestation period for the Jötnar_ , he answered.

_I want to see you in blue._

_Blue is dull. I prefer green, it brings out my eyes, even though I've been told I look stunning in any colour, but you know. I do look dashing in any colour, it's just personal preferences. We all have them, right?,_ he ranted. Loki understood perfectly what I meant, yet he avoided the subject. But I'm, as so many care to point out so often, a bit of a dick, so obviously I kept pushing.

_You know I didn't mean clothes. I meant skin. I want to see your true form._

_It's not something I like showing._

_It's part of you, though. You can't get rid of it, so why hide it then?_

He didn't answer, but it was so clearly written in the worry and fear and dread and hate and anger I felt though the connection that no words were needed.

He would only react that way if it was something negative, something that needed to be hidden to stay safe or at least accepted. And Loki didn't exactly excel in being accepted. Least of all trusted. So he tried to cover up his heritage, to avoid the discrimination.

It reminded me of racism and homophobia. Asgard's habitants called themselves gods, and the Earth went along with it. That had made them arrogant and dismissive of the other species; they saw themselves above anyone else.

I could only imagine what Loki would have had to suffer when he discovered his whole life had been a lie, that his very DNA wasn't what he had always thought. That he was one of those creatures he had grown up despising and fearing. That maybe that was the reason for his problems, that his wicked self and compulsive lying and manipulating were because of his heritage. It was an excuse, something he had been taught and adapted to the situation.

The Frost Giants were barbaric monsters without reason or intelligence. That had been a fact for the longest time for Loki. Like that Thor was his brother and he was the heir to Asgard's crown. And then, in a moment, they were but lies. Everything he knew crumbled before his eyes, all masks dropping.

He had broken at that point, lost himself in the hurting. And so what had happened in Asgard had happened, and later his trying to conquer Midgard under the orders of the Mad Titan and the Other.

Considering, he had been lucky that his sentence has been exile and monitoring from the Avengers. I suspected Thor had had a great deal in the length of it; a year? A bit more, but barely. Surely he had spoken in his behalf to Odin, and as he was the future king and a beloved warrior, he would have been forced to take Thor's petition into consideration.

_I want to kiss the patters on your skin,_ I thought, half whispering.

Loki sighed.

_You seem so bent on seeing me in my true nature, but…_ he trailed off.

_But what?,_ I asked.

_I don't think it's a good idea._

_Because you're afraid of how I'll react to them or because you're afraid of how_ you'll _react?_

_You're so observing it's annoying sometimes._

_That doesn't answer the question._ But he didn't have to, everything he didn't say came through the link. It was a completely new experience for me, and a unique opportunity to have an insight into raw feelings, to understand them better.

_You don't need me to answer the question._

_I don't, but you do._

_Since when do you know anything about feelings? I thought you were cold and made of stone._ Loki was only half joking.

_I'm full of surprises._

_I hate surprises._

_Then discover them._

_I'm planning on it. I will explore every corner of your mind until there's nothing I don't know about you._

_Sounds exhausting. And an invasion of privacy._

_Are you already giving up, Sherlock?_

_You're avoiding my original question. Again._

_You're avoiding mine now._

_Fair enough._

We stayed silent for a moment, not saying anything else. I turned on my computer to scroll down an endless inbox full of boring cases, looking for something half decent.

_It's because of the memories, not the blue itself_ , suddenly came the thought.

I took a moment to process the comment and think. His blue skin reminded him of all the wrong he had done in such short time. I understood that. But I wouldn't let him have self-pity or guilt over the past.

_What's done is done, Loki. Stop regretting your actions and start forgiving yourself for them._

_Where do I even start?,_ he asked, his voice crackled.

_What about you start by not judging yourself when you see your blue skin?_

_That's easier said than done, dear._

_I'm sure it is._ I was silent for a moment, thinking what to say next. _This is not something I say often, but I know how you feel._

Loki laughed bitterly.

_You know the story. I told you when we were in the cottage. Weird kid doesn't fit, weird kid is picked on by the rest. Oh, they're just children, they're playing, adults say. Then they're not children anymore. But it doesn't stop. I know how it feels to look at yourself in the mirror and hate what you see. I saw myself and the only thing I could think of was of how the world might be better off without me. I know what it's like to distance yourself from everybody because you don't want to get hurt. I may not have blue skin or beautiful patterns on it, but I do have scars from all the times the reflection in the mirror was just too loud. And I'm not ashamed. I'm proud; because they show I survived. Because they show I got better and made friends and fell in love. Because the reflection was wrong._

Loki didn't say anything, but I felt waves of emotion coming from him.

_Loki?,_ I asked.

_I thought I had accepted it,_ he answered. _I thought I had come to terms with my heritage_. His voice was shaky. He was sobbing.

I hadn't thought what exactly he would do, and now I didn't know how to respond.

_It'll be alright_ , I said, as I had seen in so many movies.

_Will it?_ There was a spark of hope in his voice.

_If you fight._

_I'm too weak to fight._

_You've made it to this day, a thousand years alive. You're not weak._

_But I'm tired of this burden._

_Then let go of it._

_I can't!,_ he shouted. He was desperate and frustrated, not being able to see an end to his struggle.

_You can! That's the whole point. You can, and I'll help you._

_Will you really help me?_

Loki didn't answer, but a moment later he appeared in the flat, teary-eyed and shaking. The god rushed towards me and hugged me, burying his face in my neck, sobbing silently against my dressing gown. I just stood there, running my thumb in circles to calm him as he cried, comforting him as he had done the night before.

I rested my face on his dark hair, inhaling his scent and kissing his head softly. He smelled like woods and winter and the cold breeze that penetrates to your very soul. Just like he had entered my mind and heart to its very core.

I had said I would be there for him, and I was going to keep my word. Even if he pushed away. Even if he gave up. I wouldn't. Because I _knew_.


	45. Plans, Roles & Talents.

I don't know what had just happened. One moment I was listening to Sherlock apologising for yesterday and the next I was in tears, with wounds I had thought closed open and bleeding again as fresh.

This was definitely no way to start a day.

Sherlock had started talking and asking and poking, touching all my weak spots until he made a crying lump of me. He didn't do it on purpose, of course. He just didn't know when he was being insensitive. When to drop a subject. Then he had told me his experience, and what can I say, empathy is a cruel mistress. I hadn't been able to contain the feelings any longer.

So I went to him. I hadn't even thought that much about it, I hadn't even cast any cloaking spells to prevent the Avengers from discovering my absence. I could only hope they wouldn't, or I'd have to lie, and I wasn't in the mood for having fun.

I clung to Sherlock like a needy child. I was pathetic. I couldn't stop sobbing, so I buried my face in the crook of his neck to muffle the sound. He then hugged me too, and moved his thumb in circles. It had a soothing effect, but it wasn't enough to calm me.

I breathed deeply and focused on what I sensed. Sherlock smelled like soap and chemistry and faintly of tobacco. I concentrated on the smell and his heartbeat. I could feel it through his clothes, beating steadily and rhythmically.

Eventually the sobs died out, and I could maintain a normal conversation again, without the hiccups interrupting. I didn't move for some more moments in which I inhaled all the scent I could, to save it in my memory.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to see me like that" I said when I finally pulled back.

"Like what, exactly?" he asked.

"In such a pathetic state. So vulnerable."

"It's better to get it out. If not, it'll rot inside you."

"I don't like to look _weak_." I said the word like it left a bitter taste in my mouth, which it did. It was everything I tried to avoid.

"No one does, but it's a necessary evil. It helps create bonds. Sentimentalism" he explained with a shrug.

"It's lucky we're above that, then" I answered with a tiny smile, which he mirrored. "Anyway, thank you."

He blinked a couple of times in confusion.

"Thank you for what? I've done nothing."

"You've done a lot more than nothing, Sherlock."

I looked at him fondly. He had bed hair and sleep in his eyes, but their vivid blue was alive and fully awake. I stared into them, but looked away soon as I didn't have the time to fully appreciate them, every shade and hue. If I didn’t have the time to do it properly, then I wouldn’t do it at all. They were so similar to the colours of the void, but at the same time so different. They had a warmth in them the void could not have.

I cleared my throat.

"I have to go back before the Avengers notice my absence."

"Alright" Sherlock answered, looking down briefly. "Be careful."

"You did not just say that." I gaped at him. It was so unlike him.

"What?" He gave me an odd look.

"You're not the kind of person who says “be careful”" I explained.

"I do, if I want the other to actually be careful" he observed. He had said it before, through the link, but never out loud, never explicitly.

I shook my head.

"You're incorrigible."

"Why? There's nothing to be corrected. I'm perfect." He smiled widely, showing his teeth.

"Of course you are" I answered in a mocking tone, tapping his nose with my finger. "And I like you for that."

"So you like me, uh?" he asked, pulling me close to him.

"Uhm" I answered, getting even closer to him. I kissed him on the corner of his mouth and grinned. "Now I _really_ have to go. But I'll be careful, and back before you even notice my absence, _mum_."

"Alright."

I smiled again and taking a step back I teleported back into the Tower. There was no one in sight, but that didn't mean much. The Avengers may be waiting for me to come back.

"Jarvis, where is everyone?" I asked. Acting normal would be a good idea.

"They've been called to a mission. They should return shortly."

_So no one's here now_ , I though. _Great_.

Now was a time as good as any to set my plan into motion. I already knew the exact location of what I needed; I just had to go and take it. I would need some preparation though, and with last night's and this morning's events I hadn't had time to get down to it.

I had some hours to be uninterrupted, and, as much as I'd like to go back to Sherlock, I knew I had to do this, the quicker the better.

I went down to Stark's workshop and thought about getting into the main computer, but after thinking it through for some moments, I decided against using Midgardian technology. Stark was better than me at anything related to it, so he would easily track my activity.

He couldn't, as far as I knew, track magic, though. And I was vastly more skilled than any of the Avengers or SHIELD at it. Including Amora.

I eliminated any trace of my presence in the workshop, but I did examine the magic blocker Stark had used on me the last time I was here. It would give me a reason to be here once Jarvis told Tony I had been here, and it would also explain why I had covered my tracks. It was on the table, unprotected. It gave off an energy field that disrupted my own magic, or anyone's if it were to be tuned in to it. I contemplated the idea of destroying it, but it would merely seem childish and desperate. A tantrum. It would give Stark the excuse he needed to assert his dominance.

I left it where I found it and exited the workshop. I went back up to the kitchen and picked up some fruits. I hadn't eaten anything since the day before, and I needed energy to plan what I needed.

My room was the most obvious place to do it, but that was exactly the problem. It was too obvious. If anyone was suspicious of me, which they probably were, the first place they would monitor was the room where I was sleeping.

So instead I chose the roof. It was outside, which made it more difficult for anyone to watch, but still part of the Tower, which didn't make it so suspicious. I sat on the floor and closed my eyes, blocking the sound of the wind whistling around me. I needed to focus.

I had to create a clone, yes, but just in mind. I wouldn't want another Loki sniffing around in SHIELD facilities for everyone to see. Besides, I needed something small enough to fit through any cracks. A fly, maybe.

Yes, a fly would do. I remembered where the first of the objects was and created said fly. Then I let my conscience slip into that small body and the adventure began.

 

* * *

 

I was just in front of the crate containing the control to navigate through the paths between the Realms. Not that SHIELD knew what it was for. But I did, and luckily SHIELD had a really nice classification system. I flew around and found the door some corridors ahead. Standard keypad, not too hard to crack with the right skills. Or clearance.

I had both.

I slipped under the door and found a grey long corridor with no signs whatsoever. I sighed. Figuratively. Flies can’t sigh. I followed it almost aimlessly, but paying attention to every little detail. I found an exit, but it was the main entrance, and that's not what I was looking for.

I decided to get the blueprints for the building first. As fun as it was to fly around in the shape of a fly, a map was more efficient.

I landed on the neck of one of the guards there. He was idly spacing out as the other one picked at his nails. I thought the words for the spell and tested the resistance of his mind, poking at it carefully. It was nothing I couldn't pass through, so I perused the information contained in his mind, looking for the map of this building.

I found it easily; it was on the outer layers, which meant he remembered it often. Agents patrolling the precinct, noted. I copied it to my own mind —one of the perks of working purely in abstract, immediate absorption of data— and retracted.

Now I knew every detail that agent knew about the building. Their patrol schedule, the layout of the building, its location, exits and entrances. Why hadn't I done this from the beginning?

There was not much left to do. I visited the exit and entrance I would use, as well as the second item I needed. A stabiliser to, well, stabilise the portal long enough for someone to go through. We wouldn't want it collapsing, now would we. It was in another floor, but the access was easier as it was closer to the lift.

Once I had everything set I destroyed the fly and returned to my body. The third object was here, in the Tower. Its proximity would make it actually harder to get without seeming suspicious. But easier to just get. Well, their opinion of me was not that high anyway. I do have a role to play.

I already knew where the bug was and how to get in and out of the room. Unless Tony put his brand new magic blocker to use, it would be fairly easy. If he did, though, I would have to _walk_ there. As disgusted by the ideas as I was, it wouldn't be much of a problem. Even without magic, I had other attributes and skills. Cold, strength, intelligence, to say a few. What can I say, I'm full of hidden talents. Or not so hidden.

I got up from the floor and went back into the Tower. I felt like chocolate. A job well done deserved chocolate.


	46. The One Who Made A Decision

Loki left and I found myself completely idle. What had my life been like before I knew him? Before I knew John? I had been alone, but I don't remember being so bored.

The thought of John still stung, which was understandable. I pushed it to a corner of my mind and turned around to see what I could do to kill the time.

I could go solve some cases, see if any of them was even remotely interesting. Not likely, though, so I rejected it. Violin? Nah, I didn't feel like it. Oh, I could do some experiments. Yes, that would keep me occupied and I would definitely not worry. At all.

Or maybe a little. It's so hard to find something not to be bored. I didn't like it, feeling worried. I wasn't used to it.

There were still some body parts in the fridge, so I took some eyeballs and placed them on the table to let them unfreeze.

I tried talking to the skull, but it turned out to be less entertaining than I remembered. I guess I had got used to a certain level of company.

When the eyeballs were at room temperature, I burnt them with a blowtorch and observed the results, with different degrees of burns each time.

That took me nearly an hour, and when I thought I'd have to start shooting the wall to make Mrs Hudson come up and make me some sort of company, I heard the doorbell.

Whoever it was, I was grateful.

I opened the door slowly, to see who it was first, but it wasn't any seller or assassin. It was Molly.

She was alone, dressed in casual clothes and a ponytail. She looked nervous.

I let her in and turned to the kitchen to prepare tea while I waited for her to start talking.

"How are you, Sherlock?" she asked.

"Fine" I answered. "I didn't know you were with James” I added, not making any pause between the sentences.

"I knew you wouldn't like it. Moriarty did try to kill you, after all."

"But he's not him?"

"No, he is not. And yes, I am sure." I could see in her eyes that she was determined to defend him.

The kettle whistled, so I didn't have to answer. I went to the kitchen and poured the tea in two teacups before going back to sit in my usual armchair.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock" she said suddenly.

I raised my gaze to look at her. Why was she apologising? For not telling me she was dating James? No, that didn't seem like it.

"What for?" I inquired, genuinely confused.

"For John."

_Oh_. I had forgotten about him for a moment.

"How do you know—?" I started to say, before remembering she was there when Moriarty told me. "Never mind."

"So it's true then? I was hoping Jim had lied. I can't believe it."

"He confirmed it." She knew I wasn't referring to Moriarty right then.

"I can't believe none of us knew anything. I feel like I should have noticed it."

"I should have noticed. I was with him most of the time." I felt like an idiot for the first time in my life. He had fooled me, he had fooled everyone. But he had only pretended to fall in love with me.

"Sherlock, there's nothing you could have done." Molly placed her hand on my arm in a sympathetic gesture, and I let her.

"There is. Was. I could have seen the signs, and read them, instead of completely ignoring them." _Because I finally had a friend, a partner, someone to love and who loved me._

She didn't say anything, and neither did I. I half expected her to leave, but she didn't. Some minutes later, Molly spoke again.

"How," she started, but cleared her throat before continuing. "How did you find out?"

"I was abducted. It was reckless of my part to get caught. But after Loki rescued me, I started to ponder the idea of John being a spy of some sort. Loki said John had assured him everything was fine, that I was with him, safe, when the truth was I was being held captive. And he didn't come to help me, or do anything to save me. Then Moriarty said that, and later John himself, and…" I trailed off.

"I understand." She smiled warmly.

"I don't think you do."

"The first time I dated James he was Jim, and only used me to get close to you. When I found out about who he really was, I was angry, but also sad, because he had lied, but I had believed. I felt like it was my fault, even though I knew it wasn't. He was a complete different person from whom I thought he was. So, yes, I think I understand."

I didn’t say anything for a moment, considering what she had just said.

"You're back with him, though" I observed.

"I am not. I am with James, not Jim. I'm still mad at Jim."

"We should found a club" I said sarcastically, running impatient with this conversation. I didn't want to continue talking.

Molly looked down and bit her lip. She did that every time I said something insensitive. Lately she had been chastising me when I was being a dick, though. I liked her newfound confidence. And I felt really happy that she had found someone she loved and who loved and cherished her, even if that person was, in a way, Moriarty.

I didn't think James wanted anything to do with his alter ego, and I believed him when he said he wasn't _evil_ , but Jim was, and James' closeness to Molly could get her hurt. Not to mention he would have leverage when he went against me again.

"Stop worrying so much. You'll get wrinkles" she said, trying to maintain a serious tone but failing miserably.

"I'm not worried. I'm thinking."

"You're always thinking. But try not to _over_ think, okay?"

"Okay."

She turned in her seat as she finished her cup of tea.

"Tell me more about what you've been doing while you were away. With, Loki, was it?" Molly looker rather excited.

"He's the God of Mischief. The real one from the Norse myths I used to read." I didn't mention he was also the one who led the army into New York last year. "Originally I was supposed to find some magical objects he had lost, but the situation escalated and I ended up being kidnapped by some people who were trying to capture Loki. Then more stuff happened, I was free, we had to flee and hide for a while, John was nowhere to be found, and then I came back while he tends to some business" I finished in a rush, not wanting to give too much detail. "There's not that much to tell."

"It seemed more exciting than that when James told me" she complained.

"Loki is prone to dramatics."

"I can see why you like him."

"I don't like him." She gave me a knowing look. "Alright, I do like him."

"But do you like him or like, you _like_ like him?"

"I don't even know what's the difference” I lied.

Molly was about to reply when her phone's alarm went off.

"I have to go to work now” she said, checking the screen. “Why don't you come over to have dinner with James and me? Maybe you'll stop seeing him as just Moriarty if you know him better.”

I made a face.

"No, thanks."

"You should try to interact with people sometimes, Sherlock" she said, but it wasn't recriminations. It was a simple piece of advice.

"I do interact with people! Am I not talking to you know?"

Molly chuckled.

"Bye, Sherlock. Good luck with Loki."

She left and I was back to pure and adulterated boredom. Molly's visit had taken longer than I had expected, so it was already late afternoon.

I thought about contacting Loki. He had said we would speak later, and now it _was_ later. Yes, I should talk to him, just to make sure he was okay. I mean, it's not as if anything would happen, but you could never be too careful.

_Hello_ , I greeted. _Are you busy?_

The reply came seconds later.

_Not especially. I already have everything I need to know, so I'll finish this tomorrow if possible._

_Good._ I didn't know what else to say. I didn’t even know why I wanted to talk to him so much.

_Did you needed anything else?_ he asked, hesitating.

_Not really. I just wanted to check up on you. I want this over with as soon as possible._

He didn’t say anything for a moment.

_What do you plan on doing when this is over? Some things won't be the same now…_

_I know. I don't care. I'll do what I love. I'll end Moriarty for good this time._ I didn’t even have to think about it, which is exactly what made me realise something. It made me realise why I wanted to talk to him so much, why I had forgotten about John earlier. I already knew I liked him, but now I knew I _liked_ liked him.

So I made a decision.

_I'm not in those plans._ I could almost feel his pout.

_You are. I'll do what I love. And who._ That was probably the most risky thing I had ever said. But it wasn’t risky at all; I already knew what the answer would be.

_You told me to take some time to think rationally about what I wanted. Well, I’ve thought about it, and I’ve decided. I want you._

Loki was radiating excitement, lust, and just a little bit of nervousness he tried to hide. He didn't answer, but a moment later he materialised in front of me, eyes glimmering with desire and anticipation.

I smiled slyly and walked towards him slowly. This was it. No more mourning, no more John, no more feeling victimised. Just me, Loki and whatever I wanted from the world.

I could have anything I wanted. It was about time I took it.


	47. Intelligent, Selfless & Brave

I took a moment to observe the man in front of me. His eyes were burning with desire, but there was something else too. Determination. It was the look of a man who knows what he wants, and is going to get it. I used to see it in Thor's eyes, when he moved heaven and earth to make me understand that he still loved me, even when I myself didn't.

Sherlock walked slowly towards me, eyeing me as he approached. I could hear his heart beating rhythmically, but he seemed calm.

"Are you sure about this?" I whispered when he was close enough to touch if I raised a hand.

"Yes" he answered. I waited for an explanation, but there was none.

He was piercing me with his stare, and I looked away, but I couldn’t hep focus on his lips instead. His tongue darted out slightly to wet them, and that's when I stepped forward and kissed him.

I had kissed him before, but this time it was different. This kiss carried the promise of something more, of something that would last. It was a compromise, determination, and a decision already made. There were so many possibilities, so many paths that could be taken; all of them opened by this kiss.

He answered to the kiss, slowly. It was the sweetest kiss we had had. Most of our kisses had been stolen ones, in a rush, and they didn't last long enough to fully appreciate them. So I took my time with this one. I gently tangled my fingers in his curls and he responded by placing his hands on the lower part of my back.

After what seemed like hours, he pulled apart to breathe. He was smiling and I couldn't help but mirror the gesture through the gasps. He was still close, but not nearly close enough. I leant forward until our foreheads were touching. We needed nothing more than that. That moment was perfect.

Then Sherlock started to place little kisses on my nose, the corner of my mouth, along my jaw, going up and down between my neck and earlobe. I chuckled lightly and bent my neck automatically. His breath brushed my skin and I shivered.

He was hot. I was cold. I was always cold, but he didn't seem to mind. He bit me and I moaned. I was starting to get lost in his touch, his scent, his whole body moving against mine.

I grabbed the front of his shirt and led him towards the bed. I stumbled and almost fell to the floor, but Sherlock held me and laughed.

"Oh, shut up" I complained, suppressing a smile.

"Make me."

I pulled him by the back of his neck and kissed him, successfully shutting him up.

"What about that?" I asked after we pulled apart.

"Umh, not bad, but it didn't succeed. I haven't shut up." He was smiling playfully.

"When I'm done with you you'll be effectively shut up" I stated.

"Is that a threat, Mr Laufeyson?"

"It's a promise."

With one last push he landed on the bed and I quickly straddled him.

I traced a line with my tongue down his neck, and stopped when I reached his collarbone. My fingers moved up to his shirt and started unbuttoning it as my mouth worked over his skin.

Sherlock moaned lightly as he dug his fingers in my hair and grabbed the locks. When I finished getting rid of his shirt I sat up to get a look at him, chest bare, cheeks blushed and lips parted. He sat up too, resting his weight on an elbow, and started the same process on my own clothes. I removed my shirt as he unzipped my trousers.

I didn't use magic to get rid of the clothes as I usually would. This was special, and I wanted it that way. Slow, old-fashioned. So slow. If it were just sex I would be halfway through already. But foreplay required finesse and dedication. So finesse and dedication it was. This had to be memorable. Sherlock had to remember this as one of the most special nights of his life; I would make sure of that.

My trousers were long gone, and so was my underwear. It seemed like he was going to talk, but I placed a finger over his lips to stop him. Then I brushed his skin down to his navel with it, feeling his pulse under mi fingertip.

I undid the button of his trousers and pulled downwards to get rid of them. He lifted his hips to help me and soon they discarded on the floor, but before moving on to his underwear I started kissing the inner part of his thigh.

Sherlock moaned quietly and writhed, aching for my touch. I couldn't help but to smile against his skin.

I placed small, wet kisses on his thigh, relishing in the sounds he made as my lips touched the sensitive skin. Finally I raised my head to look at him, to let him know that what he had just experienced was nothing comparing to what was about to come.

I smiled wickedly, passing my tongue along the edge of my teeth. He smiled back, as if he found it somewhat funny, but also intimidating. Sherlock didn't stop staring as I pulled down his underwear, exposing his erection, and lowered my head to the level of his cock.

I breathed over it and Sherlock shivered. His gaze pierced my every move. I kissed the tip lovingly before letting my tongue roam along the shaft, eliciting delicious little noises from the man beneath me. I took his length in my mouth and moved my head, slow at first, feeling every inch in my mouth, faster and faster as Sherlock's response increased.

His hands closed into fists tightly clutched to the sheets, unable to do anything else with them. I reached out to feel the skin of his hips under my fingertips, warm, so warm I felt like I could melt if I touched it for long enough.

Sherlock grabbed a fistful of my hair as he approached climax, not pushing or forcing my movements, just to have something to hold on to. I answered that by picking up the pace until his moans changed slightly, becoming more and more intense each moment. Louder. His grip on my hair tighter. With one last movement of my head, he orgasmed.

Sherlock let out a final strangled cry, something resembling my name, before he slumped on the bed. I swallowed as much as I could, partly a force of habit, partly because I didn't want any part of Sherlock to be wasted. I wanted all of him, every flaw, every bit, every virtue and secret.

I looked up at him and smiled to myself. Such a sight, the man, usually so composed, so in charge of himself, lying helplessly on the bed, panting. I suppressed a chuckle as I licked my lips, tasting his cum on them.

"Already done, my dear?" I asked maliciously.

He took a moment to answer, a pause I enjoyed profoundly.

"Nope" he finally said, still slightly out of breath. "We have to get you off first."

With that he sat up on the bed, his fingers intertwining with mine in the most loving gesture I could have dreamt of. I looked up and found his eyes, pouring with words that needn't be said. Sherlock leant forward and kissed my forehead, then the corner of my eye, my cheek, my nose, moving slowly downwards to my mouth before kissing me chastely once on the lips.

I made a sound when he let go and pulled him to me again, kissing him deeply. More. More. I needed more. It wasn't enough. Not enough. It would never be enough.

I pushed him to the bed again and quickly made my way down his body. Feeling every inch of skin. The muscle moving underneath it. Tensing and relaxing. I didn't broke the kiss; my hands moved in the dark, exploring and discovering delightful little places in the uncharted territory that was Sherlock's body.

Knowing what I wanted to do, he opened his legs. I found his entrance and placed a finger over it, pushing lightly, teasing but not actually entering. He winced in anticipation and instinctively put his arms around me. I laughed and kissed the top of his nose.

"Do not be afraid, darling" I whispered in his ear. "I would never be so inconsiderate as to not prepare you properly for the most amazing sex you will ever experience."

"Started so sweet and turned so hot" Sherlock answered, biting my earlobe. "Don't be so slow, or you'll miss all the fun."

"Oh, I wouldn't be able to bear such a punishment." Sherlock's teeth dragged along my ear when I pulled back, sending chills down my spine.

He turned and rummaged through the drawers of the nightstand, then took out a bottle of lube. I poured some on my fingers and left the bottle beside me.

It was cold to the touch, even for me. Maybe Sherlock's body heat had warmed me up.

Marvelling once more at the precious man beneath me, I kissed his stomach, his belly button, down his navel, as I found once more his entrance and pushed with a finger.

He gasped, not of pain, but because of the strange sensation. I started moving the finger inside him, make him get used to it, before I added a second one. With two fingers inside, Sherlock started moaning quietly. He was trying to muffle it, putting his hand over his mouth. I reached out to take his hand and kissed him again on the mouth, entangling my tongue with his. I made scissoring movements with my fingers inside him.

That effectively made him louder.

I wanted to hear him. Louder. Louder. I wanted to feel him. Closer. Closer. Never enough.

I added a third finger and stretched his ass until he could manage my cock inside him without hurting.

I kissed him on the cheek once, then on the nose, on the eyelids, on the lips. I wanted him to feel loved, to prove that I truly cared, that this was not just about the sex. So I kissed him, slowly, lovingly, my hand not leaving his, before I coated my cock with lube and placed it between his buttocks.

I pushed and he gasped, clenching his fists. I pushed until I was all the way in, and then I stopped. He needed time to get used to it. Meanwhile I continued kissing every inch of his skin, each kiss worshiping him, each caress a prayer.

Sherlock tangled his legs around me, and between the heavy breaths nodded for me to start. Carefully I pulled out and pushed back in, slowly.

"I'm not made of glass" he complained, his voice shaky, not completely masking his nervousness. "So move."

"All you humans are made of glass to me, darling." I kissed the top of his nose mockingly but picked up the pace.

He grunted in approval and bit his lip to avoid making noises he deemed embarrassing. I found them delightful. I wanted to hear them; I couldn’t get enough of them. I used a finger to trace the skin from his cheek, down his neck, to his clavicle, scratching lightly with my nail. Then I placed the palm of my hand on his chest, just over his heart, and felt it beating, fast, wild. I started playing with his nipples, tugging and biting them softly.

His hands went to my hair, clenching his fists around the locks. He pulled at my hair and forced me to tilt my head backwards, stopping my movements momentarily. I gasped by the pain and looked at him. Sherlock disentangled his legs and rolled over, pushing me to the bed, so he was on top of me, my cock still deeply buried inside him.

He placed his hands on my chest and started riding my dick, setting the pace he wanted. I tried to touch him, but he took both my wrists in his hand and locked them above my head. He leaned towards me, not slowing down or stopping at any moment, until his face was a couple of centimetres from mine. He held my gaze, his impossibly blue eyes unwavering, before kissing me with a force unknown to me until that moment. There was so much passion, so much love and lust and faith and desire and adoration I felt overwhelmed. I was breathless, but didn't want it to ever end. I wanted to be in this moment forever.

Sherlock pulled back slightly, resting his forehead on mine, our lips painfully close but not touching. I whimpered, aching for his touch, his lips, _him_ , but he hushed me and closed his eyes, relishing in his own sensations. I was so close myself…

His pace quickened, and then stopped altogether as he reached climax, his nails digging into my wrists. His cum splashed over my stomach, the warmth going unnoticed at the sight before me.

Sherlock slumped on top of me, breathing heavily. He lay still for a moment before getting up, supporting his weight on his elbows. I pulled out as he looked at me, the intensity of his eyes still there. Then he went down on me.

He took my cock in his hands and kissed it before taking it in his mouth. I was already close to orgasm, and fuck, that threw me over the edge. I came in a matter of seconds. I didn't have time to warn Sherlock, but he swallowed it all and even licked the rest off my cock.

Without saying a word, he went back to lying beside me. It didn't take him a minute to fall soundly asleep; the last thing he did was hold my hand.

* * *

 

I couldn't sleep. What time was it? I couldn't tell. It was still dark outside, but beyond that I had no idea. I didn't care. There were just too many thoughts rushing through my head to care.

This had really happened. I had really slept with Sherlock. I had been waiting for this so long. At first it was just a distraction to forget Tony. A challenge and a busy mind are the best way to avoid your problems. What I hadn't expected was to discover just how truly amazing Sherlock is. How intelligent, how selfless, how brave. He wasn't delicate or kind most times, but he was when it was most needed.

And I had failed him. I had tricked him. Our whole relationship was based on a lie. This wouldn't had happened if I hadn't tampered John's memories. Using a lie as the base for a relationship didn't end well; I knew that.

No. Feeling guilty now wouldn't change anything. I had to act, do something to fix this. The past is the past and can't be changed. But the future is malleable. I could change _that_ to cater to my needs.

So I started yet another devious plan to try and avoid all my lies exploding on my face.

The only person who knew about what I had done was Moriarty; if I could get rid of him, my secrets would be safe. Outright murder was never my style, it drew too much attention, but it would have to happen. One way or another. The opportunity was near, I just had to play along with his plan to go to Asgard.

It wasn't that bad, right? Moriarty was definitely a nuisance, it would be better for everyone if he were dead. I would be doing everyone a favour.

It was for the best.

Eventually I fell asleep too, just as the first morning lights caressed the horizon.

Even after all the despicable things that had crossed my mind, his hand was still firmly held to mine.


	48. The One Who Fell In Love With The Forest.

I woke up thinking I had had the best dream ever. I had finally slept with Loki, and he had been so loving and attentive I had almost melted under his touch. But I was alone in my bed now, so it must have been a dream.

Except that I was naked and there was someone in the kitchen, and it definitely wasn't John.

I got up, sleep slowly slipping away. It hadn't been a dream. It had been real; the realest thing in a long time. I didn't feel like getting dressed, so I just wrapped the sheet around me and went to the kitchen.

Loki was humming, his sleeves rolled up as he cooked. I couldn’t quite see what it was, but it smelled delicious.

"Aren't you in a good mood today" I commented, approaching him from behind. I hugged him and rested my face on his shoulder, eyes closed, breathing in to catch every smell, but specially his.

"Maybe that's because I got to sleep with the luckiest man on Earth" he replied, turning his face to kiss me softly.

"I’ll assume you're talking about yourself" I retorted.

He finished and turned, carrying two plates with him. I let go of him with a mild-heartened complaint.

"Scrambled eggs. The first meal you ever made me" he said after he placed them on the table.

I widened my eyes, surprised that he remembered something like that. It was such a trivial detail.

"You remember that?" I asked, a bit stupidly, as we sat by the table.

"I remember everything about you." He leant forward so his face was so close to mine that our foreheads almost touched.

"That's absolutely not creepy at all" I whispered, closing the gap and kissing him chastely once.

"That's rich coming from you, darling" he answered when he leant back.

"Maybe we're really meant for each other." I only half joked.

Loki smiled but he said nothing more. We weren't avoiding the topic, not exactly. We were dancing along its edge, tempting it, alluding to it. Almost there but not quite.

Several minutes passed as we ate in silence. It wasn’t entirely uncomfortable, though. It was the same kind of silence one could find upon waking up early.

"So, yesterday" I started eventually. "That really happened, uh?"

"Yes, it did" he said, unaltered happiness and pride tinging his voice.

"I can't believe it " I confessed in a hushed voice.

"You're the one who decided it" he reminded me.

"I know" I hurried to say. I didn't want him to think I regretted my decision in any way. "I spoke to a friend yesterday. She made me realise I should focus on the future instead of lingering in the past. And my future is you" I added, finding his eyes with my gaze.

I reached out to touch his hand, to feel its characteristic coldness. It was strangely comforting. Loki didn't avert his eyes even for a moment.

"I never thought I'd hear someone say I was their future" he murmured, almost too quiet for me to hear it.

_You're my future too_ , Loki said into my mind. Along with it were a myriad of emotions, too many to process them individually, but they left a feeling of joy and protection that warmed me from the inside.

I smiled and tried to respond with everything I felt, although I was sure it would seem blunt and numb comparing to Loki's exhibit.

Our eyes never left the other's during our wordless conversation. There was no need for words, but there was an imperative need to _see_ each other. I looked into his eyes, so unbelievably green. Like an eternal forest, full of life and secrets and darkness, but also luminous clearings hiding among the canopy. I thought I would get lost forever in them, like a girl in a fairy tale, forever hiding in the forest, beneath the trees and under the leaves. Not being able to help being in love with it although knowing the destructive nature of the secrets it harbours.

Loki suddenly leant forward and kissed me, taking me by surprise. His hands were on the table for support, and mine were still clutching the cutlery, unable to move.

His lips were soft and demanding and seemed to melt against my own. I took me a moment to answer but then I raised my hands to take his face between them. We kissed sweetly, slowly, for a long time. Our lips longed for each other but there was no rush, no need to.

"That was for all the times I have wanted to do that but couldn't" Loki said when I finally pulled back to breathe.

I smiled in response, still a bit out of breath. Loki seemed fine, if not gleeful as a child on Christmas. Stupid god stamina. He suddenly laughed.

"I _did_ shut you up!" he exclaimed when I shot him a questioning look.

I laughed at that too, because it was such a silly thing, but yet in that moment it seemed so important.

We laughed until we couldn't take it anymore, until our lungs seemed to burst and my abs hurt. And I swear, I have never been so happy as I was in that moment.

After the worst had passed and we could mostly function normally again, we cleared the table and just cuddled. It was so ordinary it was almost ridiculous. Something normal couples did. I placed my head against his chest and listened to his heartbeat, slow and steady. Loki petted my hair and kissed the top of my head and I could have fallen asleep there if it weren't for the cold. I just loved it so much when my hair was petted.

"You haven't shown me your true form yet” I mumbled, a bit drowsy.

The god stopped for a moment before he continued running his fingers through my hair. I pretended not to notice the brief hesitation.

"I know" he simply said.

"I still want to see it."

"I know."

"Show me" I demanded, with as much softness as I could, given it was almost a command.

Loki sighed.

"I can't. Not now."

I tilted my head backwards to see him. He looked torn, tortured. I took his hand and kissed the back of it.

"It's alright." I smiled understandingly. "When you feel prepared."

He let out a low growl of frustration.

"It's not… I want to show you… But I just… I don't know if I can trust myself."

I sat up to look at him in the eye.

"Why?"

"I don't know" he breathed. "I guess I'm afraid of losing control. Not being able to go back to normal."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" I asked, placing my hand on his. "You're beautiful either way."

"It's hard enough to keep my memories at bay without a constant reminder literally on my skin."

"Accept them then. They're part of your past and nothing can change that, but they don't have to be part of your future."

"Is that what you did?"

"I became a drug addict" I answered, grimacing slightly. "We can create a new future, together” I added after a pause, drawing soothing circles on the back of his hand with my thumb.

Loki remained silent and finally nodded.

"I will show you. But not now." He made a pause too. "The next time we see each other. When this is all over."

I nodded. He needed to do this, to leave the past behind, but it would take time.

"Take all the time you need, Loki.  Just know that I'll be waiting for when you're ready."

I kissed him quickly on the lips and laid back down, placing my head on his thigh. Loki looked down at me and smiled. The relief and love in his eyes was almost too much to bear. Then he leant down and kissed me again, slowly deepening it until I was breathless and aching for more.

It was so… _weird_ , being like this with Loki. It was weird that it wasn’t weird at all. It felt just natural. Even with John it had taken time to be this comfortable around him, and the last part of our relationship hadn't been like this.

This felt right. All of these kisses, the caresses, they felt right. Still, we had just started last night. Or was last night the end of another stage? Loki had been flirting with me since the moment he met me, and although part of it was just his playful nature, I couldn't help but wonder if he had been interested from the start. I couldn't recall either an exact moment when I had realised I wanted to be with him. It had happened slowly, without me noticing until there was no going back. I was almost angry that I couldn't pinpoint an exact moment that changed how I felt.

Loki pulled back, gasping for air.

"I could stay like this forever" he whispered, sighing against my mouth. "But unfortunately I have to go."

I groaned and clutched his shirt closer to me.

"No, don't go" I complained childishly. I knew he had to go, I just wanted him all for myself for a bit more.

"Sherlock, I'll be back before you even notice."

"That's not true. I notice things astoundingly fast."

Loki sighed again, a note of playful exasperation in his voice.

"I'll be fast, I promise. I just need to take what I need and give it to Jim." He paused to think for a moment. "I'll have to block our mental link, though. SHIELD would pick its signal and notice my presence."

"Exactly how long will it take you?" I asked, suddenly dreading not being able to contact Loki while he was away.

"I can do it tomorrow. In two days at most."

"Then you go tomorrow and today you stay here" I continued.

"By the Norns, you're needy, uh?" Loki nuzzled my cheek before kissing the corner of my mouth. "I have to be back now. It's already going to be hard enough to explain my absence to the Avengers as it is. So tomorrow I take the objects and give them to Moriarty and I get back. Simple as that."

"He plans on using you to open the portal, you know" I informed him, realising I hadn't yet told him what Moriarty had told me.

"I suspected it. It would be almost impossible for Amora to do it alone." He then gave me a look. "How do you know that?"

"I may have gone to him after I confirmed that John was a spy" I answered, avoiding his eyes. I knew it had been reckless and stupid, going there without a plan or even a level head.

"Oh" Loki answered. He didn't seem disappointed or upset. "What else did he told you?"

"Not much. He boasted about John and how flawlessly he had fooled me and that's it." It still stung to think about it, but I wouldn't let him get to me like that. Not Moriarty, not John. "Just don't trust Moriarty."

Loki shot me another look, which showed just how stupid he thought that comment was.

"I am not an idiot, Sherlock. I can take care of myself."

"Okay then. Go. Have _fun_."

Loki smiled ironically as he got up, making me shift position in the process. He then just stood there, watching me intently.

"What are you—?" I started.

"Ssh" he cut me off. "I'm trying to remember this. You, in this moment."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. Loki could be such a dork sometimes.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer" I retorted, but I didn't get to finish the sentence, because he quickly bent down and kissed me.

"Now I have everything I need." He had a smug grin that showed all his teeth plastered on his face. "See you soon, Sherlock."

The next second he was gone.


	49. Loss, Death & Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this chapter makes this over 100.000 words long. Thanks for all the support, and for having patience with me! This wouldn't have been the same without you.

The Tower was empty when I returned. Maybe the mission the Avengers were on had encountered complications that needed some time to be solved. I wondered who they were fighting.

"Jarvis, have the Avengers not returned yet?" I asked the AI.

"Not yet, but Mr Stark has informed me they'll arrive shortly. A couple of hours at most."

"Thank you" I murmured in response.

I could do it now, but I would have to hurry a bit. I didn't like that, although it was my best chance. Well, success' key is taking the chances you get. So let's not waste time.

SHIELD was going to take longer to notice the absence of their object than the Avengers, mainly because they don't have an AI taking inventory every so often.

So, first SHIELD. I should also give an excuse to the Avengers for my leaving. Something related to my children. It's credible, and doubting it would make them seem heartless. Nothing causes empathy like children.

I didn't have to go in person to SHIELD, a clone would suffice. The bug in the Tower, though, would be easier to retrieve myself. Then I would be out and back before the Avengers even noticed.

I went to the room I was using before I left. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. This time it would be easier to perform this spell than the last time I had done it; when rescuing Sherlock from SHIELD. I could relax and only control the clone.

I murmured the words for the enchantment and let the magic flow through me.

There would be certain problems I would have to take care of before taking anything. First, the guards. I would have to avoid them calling for backup or warning anyone of my presence, so I had to work fast. There were more than one, but not many, as the warehouse wasn’t as heavily guarded as other SHIELD facilities. A couple of them monitoring the cameras and at the doors, according to the knowledge I got from one of them.  I couldn't kill the guards either, that would draw too much attention. The most effective way would be to make them believe there was nothing wrong, so even if they were contacted by someone they wouldn't raise suspicions.

Secondly, the cameras. Their security wasn’t upgraded against magic, which is such a lucky streak I almost couldn't believe it. It gave me so much liberty to do as I pleased.

At first I had thought about tampering with them as I saw them, but then I realised it would be so much easier if they didn't see me at all. It would also make the guard business quicker. If they couldn't see me, and I could use magic, this was going to be a child's game.

Invisibility then. As far as I knew —as far as the guard I had got this information from knew— there were close to no cameras inside the actual storage rooms, but even if that were true, I would make a forgery of the boxes I took so their disappearance wasn't noticed as easily. SHIELD had an inventory far too extensive to check it regularly.

Lastly, a distraction. The warehouse's security system may not have protection against magic, but the Avengers do, and I don't know if they would be able to notice my presence given the amount of magic I would be using. I could cast a random spell somewhere close to Jörmungandr, so my alibi was solid. I hated using my children like that, as a distraction, but it was necessary if I wanted to free them someday.

Since the moment Moriarty had told me about his plan, I had seen the opportunity to get my children back. If Jim was wreaking havoc across the Realms, especially if he caused enough damage, Odin would be forced to act. He wouldn't allow anyone disrupting the static state he wanted for Asgard. And if he acted, he wouldn't pay so much attention to other things. Maybe I could even sneak into his vault and look for something to cut the ribbon that had Fenrir bound. According to the prophecy, he is destined to kill Odin himself during Ragnarök, so it was obviously going to be harder to convince the Allfather to free him. He wouldn't want to get killed because he didn't keep a child imprisoned. Because a hypothetical threat to his life in the distant future is more important than the life of a kid. _Obviously_.

Hela was quite happy with her position as queen of Hel, so she didn't need saving. Sleipnir, ironically, would be the hardest to get to. As Odin's steed, he was guarded day and night, and when the Allfather left, he usually took Sleipnir with him. Luckily, with Thor's intervention Odin may be forced to give him up. And Jörmungandr… Well, Thor had promised me he would help. Let's hope I didn't have to steal anything else from the vault to undo the magic that kept him bound. If I had to, I would make sure I took whatever I needed to protect myself and those I love. I wouldn't have mercy with whoever dared lay a finger on them. On any of them; my children, Sherlock, or me.

I'm so old now. I used to have so much mercy. But not anymore. I had suffered too much to keep it. I knew what loss and death and sorrow were, and it's not something I wanted to experience again.

I tried to calm down before completing the spell. I had found myself closing my hands into fists and breathing heavily, my heart racing, pumped by anger. Emotions were not a welcome part in most magic.

I breathed deeply for a minute to regain control. I should have known this would happen if I started thinking about my children. I shook the thoughts from my head and went back to the spell. I repeated the words, this time following through with it.

I created the projection just outside the room from where the guards controlled the building. There was no alarm, obviously. I didn't really have a body right then, and their sensors couldn't detect magic. I was what they would call a ghost. I turned invisible, though, so they wouldn't notice my presence once I went inside the room. Wait, that makes me more of a ghost. Funny. Also, distracting. _Focus, Loki._

I teleported inside the room. I wouldn't want them to see a door moving on its own volition. I sneaked up on the first one and placed my fingertips on his temples, murmuring a quick suggestion spell before he could finish the "what the fuck" he had started uttering.

The other one turned at that, but the spell had already taken effect and the man was looking normal again. I stood in front of her and repeated the process, placing my fingertips on her temples and saying the spell. That way I didn't have to kill them and they would be in a kind of numb state, not really noticing what happened around them, but functional enough that it wouldn't be suspicious.

I took the identification card from the woman and exited the room, closing the door behind me. I would deal with any other guard I encountered when I encountered them; there was no need to work in vain.

I didn't find anyone on my way to the first box. I didn't have to worry about the cameras, but still, I was careful not to make any sound.

Once there, I used the ID I had taken before and the door opened without a sound. I went directly to the box. This was the third floor, so it had to be the stabilizer. I measured the black crate and created an exact copy. I switched their places and sent the real one to a pocket universe where I could store it without it being found. One down, two to go.

The controller was in another floor, so I took a moment to remember the layout of the building and calculate the shortest way. There was a lift near where I was, but I would probably encounter someone patrolling. The stairs were too far, though, so I decided to take my chances.

I exited the room, checking no one saw the door opening or closing apparently on its own.

I walked carefully, but at a good pace. Time was of the essence and I could handle any mishaps that happened.

As expected, I found a woman patrolling when I was about to arrive to the lift. She was talking through her walkie-talkie, so in other circumstances I would have just passed her. She wouldn't notice if it was just that, but she would notice if the lift worked on its own.

With an inwards sigh, I stood behind her and placed my fingers on her temples, much like I had done with the others. She stopped talking midsentence for a moment before continuing like nothing had happened. The person on the other end didn't even comment on the pause.

I turned my back to her and called the lift. The woman didn't turn when it opened. I got inside and chose the floor.

The rest of the mission went by without a single happenstance. I was careful, but I moved swiftly. There was no time to be lost. Who knows how long it would be before the Avengers returned and Jarvis told them I was there. I also had to take the bug from the Tower, preferably before the Avengers could see me sneaking in.

I let my instinct guide me to the room where the controller was, always checking for any patrolling guards on the way. The ID I had taken from the woman in the control room worked perfectly fine this time too, so I entered, I found the box, I created a copy and I switched them. Only the bug was left.

I dissolved the projection and woke up in the Tower. I could hear the Avengers some floors down. Fuck. Well, this was a possibility. I would just have to be extra careful.

I went to the origin of the noises and found them there, laughing and congratulating themselves like some kind of important warriors. Thor wasn't with them.

"Where's Thor?" I asked outright.

"Hello to you too, Loki" greeted Captain America.

"I didn't say hello. I said where is Thor?"

Steve sighed.

"He's in Asgard, where _you_ sent him."

"Why hasn't he returned already?"

"Ask him yourself."

"I will."

So the Avengers hadn't spoken to Thor recently, which meant he was busy with Odin. And so Odin was busy with Thor, too.

I turned my back to them and prepared to leave, but stopped by the door. It was better if I announced I was leaving —again— and why now. It would save me time after I took the last object.

"If Thor returns before I do, tell him I have gone for Jörmungandr. To try and free him."

"Wait, you're leaving _again_?" Stark asked.

"Why do you even care?" I snapped. I exited the room without even giving him a chance to reply.

I went directly down, to the storage levels. I hurried as I made my way through the corridors, looking for the room I needed.

I heard Stark following me and smiled bitterly, even though no one could see me.

I did look for the bug, but I did not go there. I entered another room, a random one. I did not look back or acknowledge Stark in any way.

This was bound to be painful, but it was the easiest way to leave without seeming suspicious. I didn't love Tony anymore, I was sure of that, but the last time we had been alone together he had tried to force himself on me, and that was not something I would be able to forget for a long time. I wanted a tiny little bit of revenge before I left.

I stood in the middle of the room and waited for Tony to enter.

"Loki" he started.

At that I turned slowly, mentally preparing for what was about to happen, for his sight, the memories it would probably bring back, for my revenge. I couldn't help but think of Svaðilfari when I recalled Stark's attempt. It had given me my son Sleipnir, but it had been one of the most painful things to ever happen to me. To be so helpless, lacking all control, and not even in a good way, it almost drove me mad. And not in a good way either. I still could see it sometimes when I closed my eyes.

I shuddered inwardly and tossed those thoughts aside. I couldn't let them distract me, pull me down. I _wouldn't_.

"Stark" I responded, as coldly and neutrally as possible. "You followed me."

"You don't seem surprised" he answered, arching an eyebrow.

"I simply know you."

"What are we doing here?" he asked, overlooking my comment.

" _We?_ " I mocked. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I was following you, of course!" Stark stammered.

"Of course."

"What are you doing here?"

"Making you follow me, of course." I smiled smugly at his expression. _Oh, Anthony, you should already be used to my remarks._

Stark gaped for a moment, but he recovered his composure rapidly. He fixed his eyes on mine, waiting for an answer, and I did the same, not even blinking. Eventually he looked away, and I think I saw a light blush over his cheeks.

"I wanted to apologise" he breathed, so quietly I almost couldn't hear it.

"You what?" I couldn't help it, I couldn't believe Tony Stark was going to apologise to anyone. Even to me. Especially to me.

"I know you heard it the first time, _God of Mischief_ " he snarled, but realised his harsh tone and softened it. "What I mean is…"

Stark sighed and frowned and looked everywhere but me. This was clearly difficult for him, but I wasn't going to make it easier; he deserved it for what he had tried to do to me. He deserved so much worse.

He finally seemed to decide what he was going to say, because he raised his gaze and looked at me for the first time in a minute.

"Look, Loki, I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry for what I did. I wasn't thinking clearly and I let it affect my actions. I know an apology won't fix it." _It won't_ , I thought. "And I know I was a dick, but I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, especially knowing your history with that horse. I promise I won't do it again."

Stark stood there, all shortness of breath and pleading eyes, expectant. I stood there, all calm surface and a hurricane on the inside, waiting.

There were a million things wanted to say to him. I wanted to yell at him, punch him, kiss him in a way that would leave a permanent mark in his memory as I laughed at his eternal despair.

I did none if these things. For a long time, I did nothing. I just stood there, my eyes fixed on him but not paying attention to him.

Finally, I spoke.

"You're right. You shouldn't have done it. But not because it was me, or because I already suffered a similar situation. You shouldn't have done it because it's _fucking wrong_ , Tony." My voice seemed shaky in my ears, but I tried with everything I had to keep it even and as distant as possible. That didn't even start to cover everything I wanted to say, but it was a start.

I swallowed to gain some precious moments to calm down.

"I want you to say it" I demanded.

"Say what? That it's wrong?"

"No. I want you to say what you did. I want you to feel the weight of the words on your tongue as they bury themselves deep in you, as they take root in your little, mortal heart until it’s rotten and blackened." His eyes widened in shock. "Say it, Anthony."

He was silent.

"If you don't say it, if you make me say it for you, I swear by the Norns you won't have a single second of peace the rest of your life. I will make your life a living Hel, and I will take delight in every. Single. Moment." I pronounced the last three words separately so they were very, _very_ clear.

Stark remained silent for a moment, looking down at the floor. He almost looked ashamed.

"I…", he started in a hushed voice. "You…"

I said nothing; I just stood there, pinning him down with my gaze. I knew he could feel my eyes on him.

"I…" he tried again, this time louder. "I tried to rape you."

He looked up when he said that, but saw my eyes and looked back down almost immediately.

"Good that we're clear about that. Now leave." I put as much disdain and authority in those last words as I could muster.

The reality was that I was just barely holding it together. If he didn't leave, and soon, I would do something I'd probably regret later but enjoy immensely now. That was not good. I had worked so hard not to let my impulses rule my behaviour, as appealing as the unpredictability was.

"But Loki—" he continued, but I cut him off before he could say anything else.

"Enough." That single word carried enough magical power to shut him up. It had been unintentional, which showed just how bad the situation was. I had to calm down, and soon.

"I said _leave_." That was also a command, but unlike the previous one, was fully intentional. If I had to use magic to make him leave, then so be it.

Stark looked at me helplessly before slowly retreating. When he was by the door, he raised his gaze to fix his brown eyes on me one last time.

"I'm really sorry, Loki. You know that."

"I know that." _But it's not enough. Not nearly fucking enough._

"Does that mean you'll stay?" he asked tentatively, a spark of hope blooming behind his eyes.

"You still don't get that this is not about you?" I spat. _How could he, how_ dared _he be so self-centred?_

Stark sighed imperceptibly once and looked back down. A moment later the door closed behind him.

The second I was alone I sat on the floor and closed my eyes, my breath suddenly unsteady. The urge to let magic pour out of me to destroy and shape reality as it pleased her until there was nothing but ashes and memories was stronger than it had been for years. It was so tantalising, to fall into oblivion and let magic take control… _No_.

I couldn't let that happen. Not again. Not now.

I concentrated on my breathing, trying to calm down. My heartbeat was racing like a foal on its first time outside of the stables. I also focused on my magic, trying to bound it and prevent it from escaping. Something to do, I needed something to do. Something to drown my emotions.

The bug.

I had almost forgotten about it. It was something to do, something I had I do. The sooner I finished his the sooner I could be with Sherlock. _Safe_. I knew I could never be truly safe, but the lie protected me. _Safe. Safe. Sherlock._

My breath calmer than before, I scrambled to my feet and went to the correct room. I paid extra attention to every sound, every movement. I could hear most of the Avengers, but Natasha was too stealthy even for me.

I didn't stop to admire the bug or the perfect sphere that was its glass cage. I just measured it, calculating the height and weight of the substitute to make it believable.

This needed to be done fast, there were sensors that would feel any change in the sphere. It allowed a certain margin, though, for the bug itself twitched and moved, trying to escape its confinement.

First I created the replacement to the tiniest detail. A programmed bug tried to climb the smooth glass walls, recreated to the last scratch. Then I went to touch the real thing to teleport it, but refrained in the last moment. Stark may have installed external sensors.

I placed a hand over the glass, not touching it but close enough that I would if I flexed my fingers. Quickly I murmured a spell and the real cage disappeared. Before it could be noticed I replaced it with the substitute I had created.

No alarm went off, which I hope was a good sign.

It was done. I had finished. I just had to give everything to Jim and get out before he could use me for opening the portal. Amora couldn't do it, not alone, and frankly it would help SHIELD if Jim wasn't in another Realm.

I teleported out, leaving outrageous amounts of magic in my trail so even the dullest detector would be able to pick up the trace.

Just in case something unexpected happened.


	50. The One Who Had Been Alone For So Long.

It was unfair. So unfair. Loki could go and have something to do and I was stuck here, in my own home, while he had all the fun. I was stuck with the boredom.

Two days at most, he had said. Okay. I only had to get through today and tomorrow. Not that hard. I could solve some cases; see if Lestrade had anything interesting. He probably didn't.

* * *

 

He didn't.

The ones in the website's inbox weren't either, but I emailed some of the clients with a quick solution. John always made me do that if I knew the answer, and I guess the habit stuck.

At the thought of John I prepared myself for a dull pain, the kind that always came with the loss of a loved one. That's what it was, after all. I had lost John Watson, the John Watson I knew and had loved. He was gone —hadn't ever existed— and wasn't coming back. It was hard, but I was starting to accept that. _The five stages of grief_ , I thought grimly.

There was no pain, though. Somewhere along the way, it had diminished until there was nothing. It worried me, how fast I could forget, but it was also a relief. I didn't want to suffer anymore.

I pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the more immediate problem at hand.

I was _so_ bored.

I had tried convincing Mrs Hudson to come upstairs, but that hadn't helped. At all. She only wanted to talk about me, about what I'd been doing, about Loki. It was something I would normally welcome; talking about myself was one of my favourite ways of killing time when there was nothing interesting to do, but now it only made me anxious. It made me think of him, and I missed him.

God, I felt like a teenager, being like this after only one day.

In the evening, as I lay head down on the sofa, legs over the backrest and curls brushing the floor, I remembered the offer Molly had made me just yesterday.

Yesterday? It seemed like an eternity.

Without changing my position, raised a hand to look for my phone. It was somewhere between the cushions, I just had to… Yes, there it was.

Moriarty would be there. Well, Molly's Moriarty. _Good_ Moriarty. If such a thing was even possible. It was a perfect opportunity to study him.

I quickly dialled Molly. She picked up after the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Molly, it's Sherlock."

"Oh, hi, Sherlock." Her voice had just a tinge of worry. "Is there something wrong?"

Did I call her so few times that she automatically thought there was something wrong?

"No, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking I could come have dinner with you and…" I made a pause, looking for the appropriate name. "James."

"Now? Today? I mean, yes, come whenever." She sounded slightly panicked.

"Okay, now what's wrong?" I asked suspiciously. She never wanted to upset anyone.

"It's James. I haven't been able to contact him all day. I think Moriarty is up to something."

"Have you tried calling him?" It was the obvious thing to do, but one can never trust people to do the obvious thing.

"Yes, but he won't pick up."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Yes, sometimes Moriarty takes over and he disappears for a while. I'm still worried though. Maybe it has something to do with your coming back."

Finally. Something to do. Something _exciting_ to do.

"Then I should definitely come by. To check on you and keep you safe and all that stuff. You know the drill."

"It really isn't necessary…" she tried to play it down.

"Nonsense. I'll be there in no time."

Molly knew I wanted to go because of Moriarty; she wasn't that stupid. But I also cared about her, so I had both the real and the socially acceptable reason to want to go.

I sprung to my feet and was out of the door in a matter of seconds. In my excitement I almost forgot Molly's address, which ensured a couple of awkward seconds between the cabbie and me.

I arrived soon after. I had called Molly again just before and so she was waiting for me. With a gesture she invited me in and I followed.

"Well?" I asked as soon as we were inside.

"Well?" she repeated. "What do you mean by well?"

_Wrong start._

"Have you heard from Moriarty yet?"

Her gaze dropped to the floor.

"No, James hasn't called, and neither has Jim. But I wouldn't really expect him to call though. Jim has never been the type to make social calls." There was something in her voice that said a different thing, but I let it go.

"Perhaps we should worry about dinner. I'm sure he'll be fine. You said he's done this before."

Molly seemed surprised by my reassurance and frankly, so was I. Maybe Loki was making me soft. I didn't find it entirely bad, though. Molly gave me a small smile and nodded. She seemed better after what I said.

"So what's for dinner? I'm starving."

"I hadn't prepared anything yet. I didn't know if James was going to come" she confessed, looking down.

"We'll make enough for him and if he doesn't appear you won't have to cook tomorrow" I proposed with a wink.

I followed Molly into the kitchen and rolled my sleeves.

"What do I do?" I asked, somewhat lost. I didn't even know what she was preparing.

She turned and eyed me suspiciously.

"Do you know how to cook?" Her voice expressed just how seriously she doubted it.

"Of course I do!" I tried to look as offended as possible. "I just don't like it."

The truth was, I _did_ know how to cook. Some things. A _few_ things. Emphasis on the few. Anyway, I didn't like it, so I usually just said I didn't so people would cook for me.

"Okay. Chop the vegetables, will you?"

That I could do. I washed my hands before starting and took the knife.

"Have you noticed anything weird about Moriar-James lately?" I asked.

"Something weird?" She stopped what she was doing for a moment. "No, I don't think so. I mean, James doesn't know exactly what Jim is thinking. He just has a general idea. But he didn't say anything was wrong."

"And does he have any _general idea_ of what Moriarty is up to?"

"Jim is protective of his business. He doesn't usually share."

Molly didn't say anything else, but I noticed there was something more.

"But?" I pushed.

"But he's been demanding more and more time of James'. For a while he was completely absent, you know? Then around the time you and Loki came he reappeared."

Could we be the reason for that? If we had never come to him, would Moriarty still be dormant?

She apparently saw the concern in my eyes, because she hurried to explain herself.

"I'm not saying it was your fault in any way, but I think Jim was bored and that gave him an opportunity for amusement. I don't know. The thing is, lately it's been Jim a lot of the time. Maybe him not answering his phone has something to do with it."

I thought about what she had said. It made sense. It was probably the plan he had that involved Loki stealing for him. If it was something so big it would require a lot of planning. And time.

Suddenly I started worrying for Loki again. He wasn't an idiot, but Moriarty was smart, and he could turn the tables just as easily. I could only trust Loki to be careful.

He knew what he was doing, and had magic, which Moriarty didn't.

"Actually, I know what he's planning." Molly shot me a look and I told her what I knew. "He wants to leave Midgard. Earth. You know how Loki isn't from Earth? There are other worlds, and he wants to invade those. He's probably going to end up killed, though, so it's not  such a bad thing if he succeeds…" Molly's eyes widened in panic and I realised the mistake in what I was saying. "But I have a plan. We have a plan. Once Loki is done with the arrangement they have he is going to guide the Avengers or SHIELD or whoever handles this things to Moriarty. They'll lock him up. But if they know about James, they could let him go. Keep an eye if Moriarty comes back or something."

"They won't let him go" she whispered. She was right. They wouldn't. The risk was too high.

"There will be a psych eval and they'll diagnose dissociative identity disorder. There are ways of treating it. I'm sure he'll be fine" I tried to reassure her, but the words felt hollow in my own ears.

"He's tried, you know. Every treatment there is, he's done it. They won't work. Moriarty is just too strong. Sometimes he worries that he is not the _real_ one, that Moriarty is."

I finished chopping the vegetables and handed them to Molly. She murmured thanks and I stood there, not knowing what to do next.

"Do you need help with anything?" I asked. She sighed.

"No, it's okay. I got it." I wasn't sure she was referring to cooking.

We stayed in silence for a few minutes, until she spoke again.

"Sometimes I worry about that too."

"Sorry, what?" I had spaced out, my thoughts irremediably leading to Loki. God, I was so cheesy.

Molly was absorbed in her thoughts too, and didn't seem to mind my not listening.

"I worry that Jim is the real one and James is supposed to disappear." She bit her lip. "It's a possibility."

I hesitated. What was one supposed to say in this situation? I tentatively reached out to touch her hand in a calming gesture.

"It is a possibility, but the odds are towards James being the _original_ one. In multiple personality disorder the secondary personality tends to be darker" I stated.

Molly looked up and gave me a small reassuring smile. Then she turned to continue cooking, probably so I wouldn't see her eyes gleaming, on the verge of tears.

I mumbled an excuse and exited the kitchen, wanting to give her a little privacy to cry if she wanted. In other circumstances I would have commented how what she was feeling was just a chemical reaction in her brain, but now I understood. I hadn't even realised how much you can suffer from uncertainty. It's worse than the truth, whichever that may be.

I went to the bathroom, but after some minutes I had to get out or it would seem weird. I did try to contact Loki again, to no avail.

Molly was finishing serving the food. I sat down and looked at her. If she had been crying, she disguised it well.

I opened my mouth to make a comment about the food, but the doorbell interrupted me.

Molly perked her head up, as if she could see through the walls and knew who was on the other side. She didn't need to, because who else could it be?

There wasn't a single movement for some seconds, before she got up and almost ran to the door, yanking it open. She inhaled sharply and hugged the man standing on the doorstep. I heard some hushed voices, followed by Molly's hands touching everywhere, checking he was alright, he was safe and here. Only when she made sure James was okay did they come in.

"Hi" he murmured when he saw me. James' hand was firmly clasped in Molly's.

He was so pale. He looked exhausted. There were dark bags under his eyes, and a defeated posture perched on his shoulders. Apparently he noticed the staring.

"Long day" James explained. "For Jim, at least."

"What was he doing?" I asked.

"I don't know. He is being extra careful, making sure I don't know anything. I can't even know what he is thinking right now."

So it was something big. Then again, invading other planets was bound to be big. I worried for Loki again.

"Can't you remember anything? Anything at all?"

James closed his eyes wearily, as if concentrating made his head ache.

"I… There's this… But I can't… There were…" He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. "He wasn't alone. There were other people with him. I think one of them was Loki," he said, glancing at me when he said that, "and Loki knew the other one. A woman."

"Was Loki okay? Has Moriarty done something to him?" I asked, a note of panic in my voice. The other woman was definitely Amora, unless Jim thought he could handle Loki alone. The thought was even more terrifying than the alternative. Amora's presence was a necessary evil.

"I don't know. Sorry. That's as far as he lets me see" James answered. "I think he knows you're here. That's why he even lets me see that."

There was a sadness in his voice that went beyond not being able to help, and I remembered what Molly had told me, that he feared being weaker than Moriarty.

I thought about saying something, but it would be uncalled for and then James would know we had talked about him. Besides, it was still strange to see someone that looked exactly like Moriarty, let alone comfort him.

"How can he know I'm here but you can't know what he's thinking?" I asked. Probably a mistake, but the curiosity was too much.

"It's… Complicated. I can't choose what I see or hear, but if I'm… me, he can decide what to concentrate on and when to retreat so I can't find him. I could press him, but it's tiring and it doesn't usually work." James paused for a moment, as to give me time to process it. "I don't think he is finished with this, though. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

Then it hit me. If Moriarty was back, then Loki would be too. He may be in 221B waiting for me. He may have gone there to give me a surprise, coming back unannounced, and I wasn't there. What if he thought something had happened to me? What if he was worrying and looking for me?

I suddenly got up, the chair almost falling backwards. Molly and James looked at me, shocked.

"Sher-Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes. I… Bye."

Loki was waiting for me. I couldn't waste any time.

"Sherlock!" Molly cried. I quickly turned to answer, not stopping on my way to the door.

"Loki's waiting! Thanks for dinner!" I added, even though the food was untouched on the plate.

Maybe I was overreacting. It had only been a day, after all. But I had to see him. It hadn’t been just a day, it had been a promise; that when he came back, it would all be over. He wouldn’t leave again, not even for a day, not for the Avengers, not for Moriarty. It would be only us.

I had been alone for so long, and now I couldn’t even stand the thought of it.

I tried the link again on my way back to 221B, but Loki didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t had time to turn it on again, or maybe he wanted to give me a surprise. Maybe he was hurt, and weak, and couldn’t perform magic. That last thought kept me on the edge of the seat of the taxi the whole ride.

Almost running up the stairs, ignoring Mrs Hudson completely, I reached the door of the apartment. Breathless, I struggled to open the door, my fingers suddenly clumsy.

I opened the door, expecting a leather-clad figure on the other side of the threshold.

There was no one.

Loki wasn’t there.

I was alone.


	51. Oblivion, Guilt & Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me and also I have a couple more chapters written I just hadn't posted them.
> 
> I do plan on finishing this, albeit slowly because college ain't easy on the soul.

Moriarty was waiting for me. I don't know how he knew when I was arriving. I liked the idea of him spending his time idly waiting for me just so it seemed like he knew the exact moment of my arrival. Yes, I was going to believe that.

“Let's get this over with” I said under my breath.

After my conversation with Stark, I had barely held it together, and so I had forgotten to cast a spell near Jörmungandr for my alibi. Well, it could be worse. I could do that later.

“Do you have what I need?” Jim asked without rising from his seat.

“I wouldn't be here if it weren't the case, dear. You know I like to keep the pleasure of your company to the minimum.”

“Sure you do.” The singsong tone of his voice made my alert levels spike.

“Is Amora here?” It was an innocent enough question, but we both knew it wasn't.

I hid my hands behind my back so he wouldn't see my fingers moving for a spell. I quickly checked my surroundings. I didn't detect any magic. Strangely, it only made me worry more.

This was starting to seem more and more like a trap.

“Nope” Jim said with a smile. It wasn't a pleasant smile.

“A pity. I wanted to say hi.” I shrugged. Then I raised my hands to retrieve the elements for the portal.

“Not so fast, Loki. Where are your manners?”

“Not really fond of those when they're not needed.”

“Don't be like that. Come have tea or something. There's time.” Moriarty winked. “I'm ahead of schedule.”

_I'm the schedule,_ I reminded myself. I just wanted to finish this and go home. _Home_. What a strange word. It changed so much lately. But it usually was a person rather than a place.

“Wouldn't you rather end this and go bother another Realm?” I complained in a light-hearted tone I didn't feel.

“Don't be such a killjoy. You'll be back with our beloved Sherlock soon enough. Now, sit down.” That last sentence was a veiled command, and I really wanted this to go as smoothly as possible. If it was a trap, though, which it probably was, given it was Moriarty, I would be going directly towards it.

I chose to go along and sat down.

“I don't see any tea” I commented, raising an eyebrow.

Jim pouted childishly.

“I'm sure you can produce some with your magical hand waving” he commented dismissively.

With a sigh and a lazy wave of my fingers, some beautiful and elaborate cups appeared, along with a matching kettle and some pastries. If it was going to take some cheap tricks of magic to appease him, then so be it. Jim had always been really interested in magic, but I would have to careful in case his envy surpassed his admiration.

“Wonderful.” There was a gleam in his eyes, an echo of madness, of veiled joy and sadistic satisfaction that frankly scared me a little. Not that I would admit it out loud. Ever. I still had a role to play, and fearful god is not it.

“You have your tea, now I'll give you the objects and you can call Amora to come running like a puppy to do your bid. My part is over.”

I almost, _almost_ believed he would let me off that easy.

Of course he didn't.

“Come on, Loki” he started, leaning forward until he was on the edge of the seat, elbows on his knees. “Don't you want to be part of it? Part of the _fun_?” The way he said that last word sent a shiver down my spine.

“Sorry, I already have things to do. Important meetings with important people. Prince of Asgard, a god, you know how it is.” I moved my hand dismissively, as if it were not of consequence.

“I thought you were banished.” His eyes widened in realisation. “Oh my, Loki, what are _you_ planning? Have you come back to your senses, to the wonderfully spiteful creature I once had fun with?”

I actually wasn't planning anything, for once. But if it kept him talking instead of acting, then I could make up a plan right now. Or maybe stalling was such a monumental bad idea. It gave Jim time to prepare whatever trap this was.

“I just need Thor's help. It's not a big deal. You know how the oaf is. He can't help coming to my aide.” Short version of a plan. Good. Not too many details but enough to keep his attention. “But enough about me. What's the next step?”

“I thought you had important meetings with people far more important than me?” Jim's tone seemed genuinely hurt. He was probably just mocking me.

“I do, but that doesn't mean I'm not curious.”

“I'll tell you if you stay” he murmured, placing a hand on the side of his mouth, as if telling me a secret. He talked so quietly I almost couldn't hear him.

I shrugged in indifference.

“I guess I'll have to wait until it happens to know. A pity.”

I got up. None of us had touched either the tea or the biscuits. I retrieved the objects from where they were stored, in a pocket universe, and placed them on the table.

“My part of the deal is over, then. Have _fun_ , Jim” I declared, smiling at him.

I turned to leave, relief on the edge of flooding me. Just a couple of seconds more…

“Actually” Moriarty started. _Fuck_. “Your part is not over yet.”

I looked at him and he made a grimace.

“What I meant before is, you'll stay and I'll tell you. My bad.”

“Must you tell me?” I said that with as much boredom and condescendence as I could muster.

“Of course. If no one knows my plan and tries to stop me, what's the point of it?” Jim asked.

“You seriously think I'm going to try and stop you? This benefits me as well.”

“You'll try. And fail. For Sherlock. You, the God of Mischief and Trickery, have become predictable. Love has made you a fool if you think you can succeed.”

Predictable? Me? _Predictable_? That was flat out insulting. Even if I knew he was only provoking me, I felt outraged. I didn't win the title of God of Mischief and Trickery _and_ Fire by being _predictable_.

I just rolled my eyes. If I answered I would be letting him take control.

“Just tell me your plan and let me go. I'm bored here.” I knew he would take as much offence with that last sentence as I did with his.

“Okay, okay.” He smiled excitedly, showing all his teeth. “So, open the portal, travel to another Realm. I'm thinking Alfheim. What do you think?”

“You've thought this through. It doesn't matter what I think.”

“You're right, of course. I was merely being polite.” Another smile. “So, we're there and— Wait, no, I can't tell you that. You might interfere. Sorry, no evil plan for you.” Moriarty looked at me apologetically, but there wasn't a single shred of the emotion behind his eyes.

I arched an eyebrow and got up again. “Then we're done. The best of luck, Jim.”

I got to the door before he spoke again.

“I've recently purchased a military submarine. State-of-the-art, top notch tech, heat sensors, a radar enhanced with magic and _for_ magic.”

I didn't like the way this was heading, but I couldn't see exactly what he meant.

“Congratulations.” I flashed my most fake smile for a moment. “Your point being?”

“It would be a shame if something happened to, what's his name? Oh, Jörmungandr, yes.” That enticed a reaction whether I liked it or not, which I absolutely didn't. “How's it doing? Or is it he? She?”

“You can't harm him” I hissed.

“Are you really going to risk that? Military submarine. Pretty big missiles.” He illustrated it with his hands as he spoke.

“Is this your way of asking me to kill you?”

“On the contrary. You can't kill me. See, if you do, your dear Jörmungandr is… poof.” Moriarty made explosion noises as he imitated said explosion with his hands. “Gone.” He paused for a moment. “And Sherlock would know about your dirty little secret John Watson. Oh, come on, don't look at me like that. They're just fail safes. We'll have fun, don't worry. You'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning.”

I had almost, almost killed him on the spot. I could do it. It was so easy. A word. A quick movement of my fingers. Or even something more physical. My hand around his throat, his pulse quickening, his lungs screaming for air, sheer panic in his eyes, his hands fruitlessly trying to pry himself free. Or maybe he would smile, just smile, as the blood supply stopped reaching his brain. It would be so satisfying to see the light go out of his eyes. It didn't even have to be quick. I could take my time, make him suffer. She would have so much fun; it had been so long since I last let my magic roam free. She wanted me to do it. I could do it. It would bring such sweet oblivion…

_No_. I couldn't. I shouldn't. The risk was too high, and the satisfaction would soon fade into realisation and more guilt, like it always did. Oblivion didn't last, unlike regret.

“You wouldn't harm them. You know I would kill you” I stated.

“Oh my god, you don't see it. You still don't see it.” Jim pinched the bridge of his nose in a dramatic gesture. “I. Don't. Care. Whether you kill me or not, I do not care. At all. Either would be fun.”

I took a step towards him, but he raised a finger to stop me.

“But. If you do kill me, there'll be consequences. So think carefully what your next movement is going to be.”

Moriarty smiled smugly from his seat. He knew what was going to happen. He had always known. It was his plan, after all.

I closed my hands into fists for a moment, and took a deep breath to assess the situation. He was right. I couldn't do anything, not without consequences. Not without hurting those I love.

“What do you want?” I eventually asked. I knew what he wanted, it was what Sherlock had warned me. He wanted me to open the portal. Amora wasn't even here, so maybe I could gain a little time by saying I couldn't do it alone.

“I want you to open the portal for me, obviously” Moriarty responded, gesturing towards the three components on the table. The bug twitched and scrambled inside its glass sphere, trying to break free.

“I can't do it alone. I need Amora, or someone else with magic. Even that may not be enough.” It would take him less time to get Amora, but maybe something had happened and she was unavailable.

“That won't be a problem; she'll be here shortly. Just a couple of minutes. You can start preparing everything.” Jim beamed a smile, like he knew something I didn't. Which he definitely did.

This was so obviously a trap, but I could do nothing to stop it. If Amora was coming, I couldn't use magic to manipulate Jim, and even though I had trained my magic to make up for the lack of my staff and helmet, I couldn't battle her properly and keep Moriarty under a spell at the same time. Speaking of…

“Where is my stuff?” I asked.

“Your stuff?” Jim frowned, and uttered an _oh_ when he realised what I was talking about. “The helmet and the staff. Of course. I'll give them to you when you are done.”

“I can't open the portal safely without them. You would probably end up permanently injured trying to cross. Or dead. Not that you care.”

Moriarty sighed.

“Always whining. Okay, okay, I'll give them to you now. Happy?” He rolled his eyes. “Now go do something.”

Jim turned his back to me and took out his phone. I heard him telling someone to bring those things we took, the funny helmet and the other _thing_. He wouldn't risk anyone else coming, so it was probably Amora. Besides, not that many people could know this place. Jim had given me coordinates to teleport to, which, in retrospective, had been the first sign that this was a trap.

I stared at the immobile objects in front of me. Actually, there was very little I could do without magic. I picked them up and placed them facing an open space. The spell was a complicated one, so I may as well rehearse it a bit. Jim wouldn’t let me die. For all his chaos and his madness, he was irremediably human, and so craved recognition, company. I doubted Amora was capable of maintaining his interest for long. If she ever had it at all. My best option was to play along until I thought of a way of protect my children and Sherlock from him. Then I would end that pathetic mortal creature.

I sensed Amora's magic the second she stepped into the building. So that was it. There was no escaping. First I needed to make sure Moriarty didn't escape and now it was me who couldn't. Stupid blackmail. Stupid feelings.

I didn't turn to greet her.

“As eager to please as always, Amora” I mocked, appearing busy examining the controller.

“Loki” was the cold response.

She went directly to Moriarty to give him _my_ things. He made a gesture towards me and she reluctantly handed me the staff and the helmet. As soon as I touched them I felt a surge of power, as if my magic welcomed them back. She probably did. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes, basking in the sensation.

“Careful there, or you'll have an orgasm. Now _that_ would be embarrassing.”

“As opposed to being head over heels for your criminal boss, who, by the way, has a girlfriend” I retorted.

“Then how come he never speaks about her?” Amora placed her hands on her hips, changing the weight from a foot to another.

“Maybe because you're not worthy of knowing about his personal life” I stated, still paying more attention to the controller than to her.

“I can hear every word you're saying” Jim warned, like a concerned parent scolding his bickering children.

“I know.” I beamed a smile at him, the most fake and disgusted smile I could.

Then I left the controller on the floor and picked up the bug with one hand as I reached out with the other towards Amora. She didn't take it.

“If I'm doing this, and I'm using your magic, I need you to take my fucking hand.”

“You're not _using_ me; I'm doing it too.”

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost opened a portal to another Realm on their own.

“Do you even know how it works?”

“Yes.”

“You'd just get trampled with the words and hinder me.”

“Or maybe _you'll_ hinder me.”

I chuckled.

“That's not possible. I have better control over magic.”

“My understanding of magic has got better.”

“What does that even mean?” I was going to continue with don't get philosophical on me, Amora, when Jim gave her a look and she sighed and took my hand.

“Anyway, let's do this. I want to go  home” she suddenly said.

I eyed her and Moriarty alternatively, trying to decipher the communication that clearly had just happened. Amora was looking at me expectantly and Moriarty was grinning smugly, which in itself wasn't such a strange thing.

Oh, by the Nine. I was so going to regret this. But then again, I most times regretted _at least_ part of my plans. There was still the looming shadow of suspicion and betrayal, but how could it be betrayal if Jim and I didn't trust each other? No, it was something with way less sentimentalism. It was the certainty of Jim’s eternal boredom, and his wanting to wreak havoc anywhere and everywhere. He was unstable, and should be acted upon accordingly.

“Where to?” I asked.

“Amora will handle that. You just do your thing and she will think of the place.” Amora looked so resentful when Jim said _do your thing_ , as if it were something only I could do. Which was exactly the case; Amora couldn't do it and she knew it. It was definitely eating at her on the inside, not being able to be enough, to be good enough. She was a formidable magician, but she’d always envied my abilities.

I channelled Amora's magic and added it to mine before uttering the spell, too quietly for Amora to hear it. I wasn't going to let her do this; she was to be a tool for me and nothing more.

The bug started squealing and tried to pry its way out with even more insistence. Its spherical cage started to vanish, like molten glass, slowly melting.

I handed the disappearing cage to Amora, who reluctantly took it, surprise written across her face. I needed a free hand to do the next step. I shot her a look so she knew that was the reason for her being holding the sphere, and not because I trusted her. It’d be a really reckless move on my part, and for all my flaws I wasn’t stupid.

Pining the bug down with a finger, I searched for the start of its thread. It seemed fragile, but it could withstand the forces of a portal without breaking. So did the shiny surface of the shell. I briefly wondered if an armour made from them would make it viable to go through wild paths and survive. I had always wanted to travel between Realms without going through the adapted paths. They were so boring, so predictable. You entered in a place and stepped out in another. But that was a thought for another time.

Finally I found the start of the thread and pulled. I took the remnants of the sphere back from Amora. It had almost completely melted by then, and the bug vibrated in my hand but had stopped trying to escape.

Amora had already taken the controller in her hands, and was quickly muttering with her eyes closed. I couldn't make out enough of what she said to determine where the destination was, but at this point it didn’t matter. I would have to let Jim go if I wanted to make it out alive. Sorry, SHIELD, but my life comes first. Not sorry at all.

When she was finished, the bug started glowing dimly, and so did the controller. I placed the bug on the floor and a second later it began to crawl. There were a myriad of uncharted paths across the Nine Realms, so the possibility of one being here was high. If it was, the bug would find it and pry its way through.

It wandered aimlessly for a minute, glowing brighter and brighter the closer it got to a potential portal. Finally, it stopped. Mimicking the movement of digging, it opened a hole in the air. It was small at first, too small for even the bug to cross, but it grew rapidly and soon even Sleipnir could have fit through it. The bug stopped and disappeared through the portal to continue clearing the path.

The edge of the portal was unstable, changing both in size and shape. I handed the thread that connected us to the bug to Amora and took the stabiliser from the coffee table. I knelt down beside the morphing entrance and placed the stabiliser in front of me. The runes engraved on the surface of the disk started glowing, just like the bug and the controller had done before. Slowly, the borders of the portal stopped moving, and its shape became defined. Now the most unsettling thing about it was the abyss staring at me from the centre of the portal.

I suppressed a shudder and some memories that threatened to flood me. I had to focus if I wanted to survive.

I looked back to see Amora holding the thread. She looked annoyed, as she usually did. The thread suddenly relaxed for a moment before tensing again and her features changed to a surprised expression for a moment.

“It is done” I announced, maybe more ominously than needed. Well, if someone was to appreciate my dramatic efforts, it was Moriarty. “Now you can go wherever you're going and do whatever you're doing.”

“How does it work?” Jim asked.

“You just walk into it. You'll appear on the other side.”

“Aren't you even a bit curious about where the other side is?”

I'd be lying if I said I didn't, but I had more pressing matters to tend to. Like, surviving. Nothing had happened yet, though, so I wondered for a moment if it wasn't a trap after all. I couldn't let my guard down anyway. That's how you walked directly into said trap without even noticing.

“Yeah, nah.” I used the most indifferent tone I could. “I'm sure I'll hear about it once you've started wreaking havoc.”

Jim pouted.

“Don't you prefer to hear it before anyone?”

“Not really.” I smiled as widely as possible. Jim returned the smile. “I guess it's time. Farewell, James.”

I tried to teleport, but nothing happened. Moriarty was still smiling. I looked at Amora and tried again. Nothing. She was smiling too. It was a menacing smile, proud and dangerous and wicked.

“What have you done?” It was a rhetorical question, I already knew what they'd done. Stark's magic blocker. I could feel my magic, it was there, she wasn't gone, but I couldn't reach it.

Moriarty's smile just widened even more, showing his teeth like a shark.

“Don't you know?” he said in a terrifying singsong voice. “You're coming with us. Oh, I have grand plans in store for you, Loki. It would be a shame if you left too early.”

That was it. I was done. Magic or not, Jim was mortal, and no match for me. I charged towards him, consumed with blind rage. I wanted to destroy him, destroy everything he held dear. It was a mad desire that had nothing to do with her, with the desire for destruction that came from my magic.

Amora watched with an amused look as I got closer and closer to Jim. Just a second more and my hands would be around his neck, or maybe tearing through the soft flesh of his chest until they found his blackened heart.

Amora twisted her wrist when there was only a couple of metres separating us. Then, I fell.

I found myself on the floor, struggling to remain conscious. Everything was going dark. I saw Moriarty towering over me and laughing in pure delight.

“I'm not only taking you because it would hurt our dear Sherlock, although it is a plus.” He smiled, and the world froze a bit. “Now that you're here, I'm going to destroy him. And you'll watch all of it.”

The last thing I heard before I blacked out was a chuckle and “it'll be fun” from Jim.


	52. The One Who Loved Unconditionally

He wasn’t there. Moriarty had returned but he wasn’t there. Something had happened. Something _must_ have happened. Right?

Loki wouldn’t just disappear.

_Yes, he would._ That annoying voice in my head was never satisfied, it never stopped saying the things I didn’t want to admit to myself.

He was probably still sorting things out with the Avengers. He wouldn’t want them thinking he was a traitor.

_He wouldn’t care about what they think. And besides, a traitor is exactly what he is._

_He would care if it put him in danger._

I don’t even know why I bothered arguing with that insidious little voice inside my head that always liked to twist everything.

Loki was arrogant and with good reason, being a god and all, but he had learnt the hard way humans were not the helpless creatures he once thought they were. And having the Avengers against him was definitely not something he would want. So something had happened.

What should I do?

What _could_ I do?

I had to do something.

I couldn’t just leave him.

He wouldn’t just leave me.

_Wouldn’t he?_

Moriarty.

Moriarty would know where Loki was. He had to. Loki had gone to him, after all. I had to ask him. I had to make him answer me.

_You’re overreacting. He’s just a bit late. Nothing’s happened. Relax._

Maybe I _was_ overreacting. I was so anxious after everything that had happened. I couldn’t help but prepare for the worst.

Loki was fine. He was probably with the Avengers, tying loose ends. When he was finished he would come back to me.

If anything else happened, I would go to Moriarty. Not tonight, though. Molly had just got James back. It wouldn’t be fair to demand him to change into Moriarty right away. Tonight was for them.

Tomorrow. I would go tomorrow, if Loki wasn’t back then. Loki would be here in the morning and I would have worried for nothing. He surely was just sorting things out with the Avengers.

______________________________________________________________________

I had an awful night. I could barely rest, and the little sleep I got was riddled with nightmares, but when I woke up I couldn’t remember what they were about. I was just left with that horrible feeling of fear and tiredness and uncertainty.

I missed having someone to sleep next to. Loki, or even John, before I had discovered he was a spy. That would help with the nightmares. It helped Loki. I couldn’t help but smile a little when I remembered that’s why we had slept in the same bed that first time in New York. To help with the nightmares. And to spite John a bit, even if that’s something I wouldn’t admit out loud.

I looked at the time. 6:57AM. I had been tossing and turning for who knows how long. I felt tired, but I got up. Nothing good was going to happen if I stayed in bed.

I couldn’t do anything, not yet. It was too early for anything. I doubt Loki would be awake, let alone back. I could go to Moriarty, but he probably was still asleep. Who knows. Maybe not. But as much as I hated it, getting him in a bad mood wasn’t a good start if I needed him to tell me where Loki was. 8:00. That was a good time, early, but not too early. He’d probably be awake by then. If Loki didn’t return earlier.

_Are you postponing this?_ Again that little voice in my head telling me what I didn’t want to think. Sometimes I was annoying even to myself.

Was I postponing this? Unintentionally? I didn’t want to wait but I didn’t want to go either. I dreaded what it meant, that Loki hadn’t come back, that something was wrong. Or that nothing bad had happened to him. Somehow I dreaded what Moriarty would tell me in that case more. _He’s dead. He left. He never loved you._ I didn’t know which one was worse. Well, of course I knew which one was worse; I would gladly have him alive and without me than dead in my arms. But all the possibilities hurt.

I had to go, though. However horrible they would be, I needed answers. Loki still wasn’t here. Moriarty would know where he was. And if something had happened to him, either by his hand or someone else’s.

The thought revolted me.

7:12AM. Still too early, but I took a shower to kill the time and got dressed. I wasn’t hungry, but I ate something for breakfast. I don’t know what. I couldn’t wait. I found myself pacing in little circles around the small living room.

At 7:46AM I decided it was time to be on my way. Still early, but acceptable. Just in case Loki returned while I was out, I wrote him a quick note.

I hoped he was back for when I came home.

I took my coat and had opened the door when something stopped me dead in my tracks. Or rather someone.

John was standing just outside the door. He looked surprised to see me.

“Wh-John?”

“Hello, Sherlock.”

“What are you doing here?”

It hurt me to see him, but it wasn’t the kind of hurt that came with heartbreak. It was the kind of pain that usually accompanies betrayal. And he had been everything to me, my lover, my confidant, my best friend. My blogger.

“I wanted to talk” he said, making a slight pause at the last word. Given how we had left things the last time we spoke, it was understandable that he would be hesitant.

“Talk about what?”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss him. I did. Greatly. But just not in that way. I saw that now. It had taken me a surprisingly short time to get over him. Maybe this was coming from a long time ago. Maybe Loki had had something to do with it.

“About… I don’t know. Us. Jim. Everything. I wanted to apologise.”

I huffed.

“Apologise. Sure. Do whatever you want.”

I just wanted to avoid this conversation. I wasn’t feeling like talking about what he had done. I just wanted to forget about John. I didn’t want to hurt him, but that’s what I had accomplished anyway.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that” I said when I saw the look in his eyes.

“I probably deserve it.” John smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. He probably did deserve it. _Probably,_

None of us said anything for a moment. I looked away, not knowing what to say. What was there to say?

He cleared his throat.

“Apologising is not the only reason why I wanted to talk.” His voice sounded strained, which made me look at him. “I think I’m going mad.”

“What do you mean, you’re going mad?”

“I see things. Well, I remember them. Things that aren’t real, that never happened. It’s like I’m two different people.”

“You are, John. It’s called being a spy.”

Now I was getting angry. I didn’t have time for his stupid existential crisis.

“No, it’s not that! It has nothing to do with that. I don’t know what is real anymore.”

“Welcome to the club” I snarled. I was so sick of this. “Did Moriarty send you? Is that it? Does he think you can still come here and that I’ll pretend everything wasn’t a lie? That you didn’t break my heart and devastate my world?”

“No” he murmured. John was looking at the floor like some child caught red-handed doing something wrong. “You have Loki now. That’s good. I was going to leave eventually anyway. You shouldn’t have discovered the truth.”

“That would have been even worse” I sneered. “This way I know the truth. I know what you are. You can’t hurt me anymore. You are dead me.” I said each word of that sentence very clearly, emphasising all the hurt and anger he had caused me.

“That’s fair.” John couldn’t even look me in the eye. His gaze was still glued to the floor.

“Now leave. I have things to do.” It was harsh, but he deserved it. He deserved so much worse.

“No.” It was just a word, but he said it so adamantly I stopped. John finally looked up. “There’s something happening to me and you’re going to help me.”

It was the tone he used to give orders, when he took no shit and was in charge. It was the voice that had once driven me crazy. Once.

“Why would I?”

It still had a slight effect on me, but I overcame it. I couldn’t afford to fall for that now.

“You owe me, for leaving me in the hands of SHIELD. I was there for weeks.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re accusing me of something.”

“You abandoned me!”

“And you lied to me! From the start, everything was a lie!”

He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t seriously blame me for his time captured by SHIELD. We had rescued him as soon as we knew where he was, what had happened. Now I wish I had left him there to rot.

“It wasn’t personal” John tried to defend himself, but his voice gave away that he knew he couldn’t win this argument. Not with that excuse.

I didn’t respond to that. He didn’t say anything either.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you” I finally said. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to. “Please leave and don’t ever come back.”

John seemed to start to say something, but saw that I was serious and shut up. He nodded reluctantly and turned around.

“I’m sorry, truly” he murmured. I almost didn’t hear it.

I stood there, motionless, until he went downstairs and his footsteps faded into silence. I took a deep breath. I still had the coat on my hands, so I put it on. Suddenly it was cold, but I doubted it had anything to do with the temperature.

What time was it? I rummaged through the pockets, looking for my phone. The screen came to life when I touched it. 8:17AM. There was a new message. I opened it, expecting spam.

It wasn’t.

It was Moriarty’s. It had been sent roughly fifteen minutes earlier, while I was talking to John.

_You’ll maybe want to call the cavalry to defeat this villain and rescue your icy princess. It’ll take something truly heroic to win. It’s gonna be fun. xoxo_

It was pretty clear what he wanted. _The cavalry, something heroic_. The Avengers. He was enjoying this immensely. He wanted a challenge.

Frankly, it kind of hurt my ego that he didn’t think I was enough anymore, but it also terrified me. What did he have prepared that he thought not even the Avengers, self-proclaimed Earth’s mightiest heroes, could defeat him?

I called Molly. If Moriarty was still with her, she could help. He wouldn’t hurt her; as much as he claimed to not care, he liked her, even respected her, in his own way.

“Yes?” she said after a couple of beeps. Her voice sounded husky, so I probably just woke her up.

“It’s me” I answered. “It’s James there?”

I used the name of _her_ Moriarty, hoping he would be the one beside her on the bed.

“Yeah, he’s…” She made a pause and sighed inaudibly. “No, he’s not here. He’s gone. What happened, Sherlock?”

“Moriarty has Loki. I don’t know where. But he wants me to call the Avengers.” There was no point in calling him James now. Not that it would have been any good.

“You should call them then.” I was about to say it would be heading right into a trap, but she continued. “It may be playing into his hand, but what choice do you have? You have defeated him before. He knows that. I love James dearly, but I won’t tolerate Jim’s tantrums.”

_Tantrum_. That was an odd choice of words for Moriarty's behaviour.

“I don't exactly have their number on speed dial” I complained. But, wait. Loki probably did. He had brought back his phone the last time he had been with Tony Stark. “Molly, hold on a moment. I think I know how to reach them.”

I hung up and called Loki's number. He had given it to me when he went to Malibu, to Tony Stark. In case anything happened and his magic wasn't enough to get through to me. It rung somewhere in my bedroom, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly where. It kept ringing while I rummaged through the drawers and piles of scattered clothes.

I finally found it, under an especially messy pile of Loki's things. It had a password, but I knew him and I'm Sherlock Fucking Holmes, so deducing it was _myass_ wasn't that hard. Also, the hint was “the best thing in all the Realms”. Knowing Loki, it was obvious.

He didn't have many contacts, but they weren't listed as the names of the owners. Instead, they had nicknames. They were funny, if you knew what they were referring to. For example, the Black Widow was definitely Professional Knife Sharpener. Clint Barton was probably Purple (no) Pants. The Hulk was Meanie Muppet, and Captain America had to be Gym Grandpa. There was also a number called Wicked Witch of the West, which had to belong to Amora, although I didn't know why Loki had her number. And the one named Daddy wasn't my number so it had to be Stark. I had to laugh at that, despite everything. I didn't know Loki knew enough about pop culture to come up with those names.

I decided I would call Thor, aka Golden Retriever. Loki being his brother and everything, he was more likely to help me. He picked up after the second tone.

“Brother!” he shouted into the phone.

“I'm afraid I'm not Loki” I answered. He didn't say anything for a moment, but I could hear his breathing. I decided to be direct; it wouldn’t do any good to beat around the bush. “He's been captured. I need you help to get him back.”

“By whom?” he asked. “What can I do?”

That was it. No questions, no hesitation, not even asking me who I was. If that wasn't love, what was.

“Moriarty. Loki was trying to trick him, to capture him before he went to wreak havoc on other Realms, but he was kidnapped instead.” I made a pause, unsure of how to explain my involvement. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. Loki came to me to help him retrieve some magical objects that had disappeared.”

“Alright, you know where they are? Anything?”

“Moriarty sent me a message, telling me to ask the Avengers for help. I don't know exactly what he had planned, but it will be bad. Extremely bad.”

“Where are you? You must come and aid us in the rescue. You seem to know Moriarty pretty well.”

_I do. And this is my fault._

“Yes, yes, of course. I will do everything I can to get Loki back.” Maybe a little too passionate, but it was the truth. I just hoped Thor didn't notice the urgency in my voice.

“Where are you?” he repeated.

“Oh, yes. London. I can take the next plane to New York. It's soon enough.” I was already running all the possible flights and combinations to get there as soon as possible.

“Nonsense. We will come to you. It will take but a couple hours.” Thor made a pause. I thought he had hung up, but he spoke again. “We will get him back, Sherlock.”

Then he did hung up and I was left alone once again, heart racing and mind running, unable to escape all the haunting possibilities of what was happening to Loki.

 

 


	53. Quotes, Entropy & Disaster

Everything was black. Then white. Then, I don’t know. I can’t remember. Dizzy. I felt dizzy.

I couldn't see. It didn't matter. I didn't care. Everything was black. I liked it. It was dark and I was alone. No, I didn't like it. It was dark and I was alone. Why would I like it?

It wasn't dark. There was so much light I was blinded. It was white. Completely devoid of colour. It wasn't dark, but I was alone. It was calming. Peaceful. I didn't like it. I was alone.

I heard something. Was it a voice? What was it saying? I couldn't make out the words. It didn't occur to me to call the voice, to ask it to repeat itself. There was no one here, after all. I was alone.

Time passed. I think. Time does tend to do that. I wasn't conscious most of the time, and even when I was, I was barely there. Where was I? I didn't care. It didn't matter. But I was alone.

Sometimes there were hushed voices. Or maybe they were just distant. Did it matter? It didn't, probably.

At a certain moment I realised I could open my eyes. I just hadn't. I could also feel more than that blinding darkness.

There was a bitter taste in the back of my mouth. I tried to touch it, but my tongue felt numb and clumsy. So did my fingers. And my whole body. I tried to remember what had happened, where I was, but it was hard to think through all the fog in my mind.

“I think he's awake” said a voice. For the first time I understood what it said. I knew that voice. I knew what it said and I knew the voice, but I couldn't remember whose it was.

I swallowed, but the taste in my mouth remained.

It was cold. I could feel it. But I wasn't cold. I never was.

There was more to my surroundings. There had to be. But it was hard to concentrate. Bits and pieces came to my mind, but they were scattered and impossible to make sense of.

I was bound by the wrists. I knew that. And I was kneeling. Oh, the irony. The floor was cold, colder that the air even. Was I bound by the ankles too? I did not know that. I couldn't distinguish the cold of the floor and the cold of the shackles. The bitter taste in my mouth was still there. It gave my tongue a funny feeling. Like it tickled, but it was numb.

What had happened? I couldn't remember much, just flashes here and there. Jim. I had gone to… I was supposed to… But he… He had captured me instead. I wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both. A stupid mortal had captured me.

But he wasn't alone. Amora. I remembered it now. She was helping him. Amora. Had she said something? I had the impression she had said something recently. I didn't remember what. It probably was nothing.

“Wakey wakey, my dear Loki” said a voice on my ear, before tugging gently at my earlobe with his teeth. It sent a shiver down my spine, although not the good kind. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but that made me open them in surprise. I would probably have screamed —a bit— if I had been able to.

Jim saw the puzzled look on my face and laughed.

“Don't worry, it's just a spell to bind your magic. Wait, you _should_ worry. You have no magic.” He made a slight pause. “How does it _feel_?”

So that was why I felt my fingers and tongue so numb. Amora had such a smug smile on her face. I wanted to punch it out of her, and instinctively tried to move my hands to cast a spell. I don't know if they moved, but if they did, I didn't feel them.

I tried then to speak, to tell her in excruciating detail all the horrible and unspeakable things I would do to her should she not release me, but nothing came out.

“Oh, you can speak. I wouldn't want that sharp tongue of yours to go to waste” Amora said. “You just can't lie.” Her disgusting smile widened, and my hate for her flared like the heart of Muspelheim.

_I am not lying._ Nothing came out of my mouth either.

I was a master of lies, but to differentiate between the truth and the lies I told I had to be completely honest to myself. I couldn’t lie to myself. Which, right now, made me completely unable to say anything I didn't truly believe.

“Threats are not yet truths, dear. Keep that in mind” Amora reminded me, looking uninterested at her manicured nails.

“You remember what happened to the last pitiful creature who dared defy me.”

A quiet chuckle returned my attention to Moriarty.

“Look at you, the infamous God of Mischief, kneeling at my feet. And still, you have the strength to bicker. Lovely.”

“You, release me. You do not require my assistance anymore.” My mind was clearer now, so I could notice the slight changes in the air. This wasn't Midgard’s air. It was… Niðavellir; I would recognise the stench of dwarven forges and gold anywhere. “We are not in Midgard anymore. What fun can this be if Sherlock can’t reach us?”

That was his endgame. Fun. It always was. Chaos, entropy, disaster. They all brought great joy to Jim. That’s why he did it. He just wanted to.

“Our dear Sherlock is not the only one who's coming for us. Another one of your lovers and his clique of misfits have joined the rescue party” Moriarty explained. The Avengers? They could travel the Realms, with Thor’s help. I couldn't help but laugh.

“Thor will kill you, SHIELD be damned.” The organisation would probably want to capture him alive for information, but let’s be honest, no one would be too sad if he ended up dead at the hands of my brother.

“He'll have to catch me first” Jim said in a playful tone.

“That isn't hard for a god.” I made sure to say the whole sentence in a row, so he wouldn't notice the slight pause between _hard_ and _for a god_.

“Oh, but aren't you also a god?” he mocked.

“Frost giant.” I would have shrugged if I weren't bound so uncomfortably. For once the truth wasn't something to hide. It allowed me to win this point, just this once, as moot and childish as it was.

“Jim, we have things to do.” Amora purred. By the way she said his name you'd think they were one of those newlywed couples who can't get away from each other.

“God, Amora, there's plenty of time to work. Let me have a little fun.” Or maybe one of those not-so-newlywed couples who can't wait to get away from each other.

“Gross, Amora.” I focused my attention on Jim, who turned so the woman wouldn't see the little smirk on his face. “I'm glad you find this lovesick pet amusing. I know I didn't.”

True, that had been centuries ago, and it had only started because we both were sorcerers, but it was enough to get a reaction out of The Enchantress.

“I am nobody's pet. And certainly not yours.”

“That may be true _now_ , but if I recall correctly you did love when I—” Amora didn't give me a chance to finish. She stomped towards me and grabbed me by the neck, squeezing tightly.

“Stop. Talking.” Her words were accentuated by the tip of her nails digging into my skin. If she weren’t who she was and I wasn’t in the situation where I was I would even find it arousing.

She let go, and returned to her work. Jim smiled at me, amused.

“A work of art, isn't she?” he asked.

I tried to answer something sarcastic to that but nothing came out of my mouth. I didn't know what else to say, so I went with the truth. “I'm still a better sorcerer.”

“Indeed you are.”

I saw the Enchantress’ shoulders tense at that, because she knew it to be true. The spell she herself had put on me made it clear that I could only speak the truth, but that didn’t mean my words would hurt any less.

Then Moriarty turned and went to stand beside the woman, placing his hands on her arms in a soothing gesture. She visibly relaxed under his touch.

“Amora, darling, how is everything coming along?” his voice was sickly sweet. And so fake. If she didn't notice or didn't care, I did not know.

“It should be finished soon. We just need to…” she trailed off, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

“Magnificent.” Jim clapped his hands once, creating an echo in the room. Then he smiled at me, a terrifying and perverse smile. “Let's get to it then.”

Without magic, I was helpless. There was nothing I could do to get out of these restraints. They were so cold. It was not a feeling I was used to. I had never paid attention to it growing up, but one of the perks of being a frost giant was that I was never cold. Except when I showed my true self…

But that meant the spell that covered my blue skin had dissipated. It couldn’t have, it wasn’t my magic. Odin had cast it, not me, so it didn’t matter that my own magic had been rendered useless. I had cast a spell of my own in case the Allfather’s faded or he stopped feeding it. I didn’t want to find myself suddenly exposed and blue.

Maybe he had stopped the spell. I had only told Tony about my own spell, but he may had told Thor after everything that had happened, and he probably had told Odin… Or maybe his magic, his power, was diminishing faster that I had anticipated. I didn’t know what to think about that. Long ago I would be overjoyed at the thought of his reign coming to an end. Now, I did not know. I had conflicting emotions about it, but it was neither the moment nor the place to examine them.

The important thing was, if I was right, I had a chance.

Jim was talking to Amora, but as soon as he noticed me looking at him he started walking towards me, that awful smile back on his face. That was it. This was the end. I did not know what Moriarty had in storage for me, but it would certainly not be pretty. The portal was already open, so he did not need me anymore but to serve as bait; and I didn’t really have to be alive for that, the Avengers just had to _believe_ I was.

And then, his phone rang. I don’t know how he got reception here, or who the one calling was, but I thanked the Norns for it. Jim frowned at first, but soon relaxed and smiled.

“Oh, hello, John! How’s life, how’s Sherlock. To what do I owe this pleasant call?”

John? John Watson? I had almost completely forgotten about him. What was he doing? What did he want? Didn’t he know what Moriarty was planning? No, of course he didn’t. I had cursed him, and provoked his downfall from Sherlock’s good graces.

I could not hear what he answered, but it made Jim laugh.

“Of course you do. I can give you what you want.” A pause. “You know me so well, no wonder you worked for me. Or did you?” Another pause. “Okay, come to me and we can talk. I am growing tired of this faceless conversation.” Jim rolled his eyes. “No, of course I’m not in the phone book. What would it even say, Criminal Services? What are you, an idiot? No, don’t answer that; I know you are.” He pinched the arch of his nose and sighed, exasperated. “Just tell me where you are.” A hesitant pause, and a short answer on the other side of the line. Without giving any type of an answer, he hung up and raised his gaze to meet mine.

“Saved by the bell.” He then turned to look at the Enchantress. “Amora, dear, would you be so kind as to fetch the ex-pet of my favourite amusement?”

“You mean John Watson?” she asked, clearly not excited by the idea of getting side-tracked to play chauffeur.

“Yes” Jim dragged the syllable long enough to make it annoying.

She sighed and disappeared with a wave of her hand.

“It seems there’s even more fun in store than anticipated. Oh my.” Moriarty looked at me, a curious glint in his eyes. “You want to know what I’m going to do with him.”

“Yes.” There was no point in trying to hide it.

“That depends on what he wants to know” he said maliciously.

“About what?”

“Naïveté doesn’t suit you.” He gave me a knowing look. “But let’s see how events unfold.”

Amora came back, a rather confused John Watson by her side.

“I brought it. Now what?” she said, annoyed. “This will only further delay our plans.”

“As the youngsters like to say, take a chill pill. There’s time for everything. So relax, and have fun.” Moriarty then turned to John and smiled. “Welcome back.”

“I need the truth” the man said outright. He didn’t even look at me.

“Of course you do, but do you _want_ it?” Jim asked mysteriously. “How does that pretty quote go… Oh, yes, ‘the truth will set you free, but first will make you miserable’. We could also use another one of my favourites, a darker one: ‘lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'entrate’. It means ‘abandon all hope, ye who enter here’. Oh my, there are so many to choose from.”

He saw John’s face and laughed.

“Am I getting side-tracked? My apologies, I do tend to do that. To the point, then. Shoot.” He accompanied the word with the gesture of a gun with his hands.

The doctor didn’t waste any second.

“Do I work for you? Was anything involving Sherlock real? What is the connection between us? Are my memories even real?” His voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Who am I?”

“Oh my god.” I could swear he looked at me out of the corner of his eye when he said that last word. “Isn’t that the million dollar question. I wonder who’ll have the answers you want.”

Jim didn’t say anything else, and John grew impatient.

“You promised you would tell me the truth.”

“You see, I didn’t actually _say_ that. You really have to pay more attention.”

“Then why am I here?”

“To negotiate, of course. Why else? As I said, I can give you what you want. Answers. The truth; that squeamish little thing you good people love so much.” John opened his mouth, but Moriarty raised a finger to shut him up. “I’m not done.” A slight pause, for dramatic effect. “Now, I can gladly answer any questions you have, but I’ll require something from you.”

He waited until the doctor asked.

“What?”

“Fairly easy, comparing to what you’ve already done for me.” He winked. “Just stay around. Help me see this through, and you’ll have everything you want. I promise.”

John narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but he soon realised he didn’t have a choice, not if he truly wanted the answers he craved. If it was bravery or just curiosity, I did not know.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Jim Moriarty grinned, and it was terrifying.

“Good.”


	54. The One Who Survives

They arrived fast. Faster than I thought they would. I had time to pack something but, frankly, I was too much of a fidgeting mess to do anything. A thought about how much I missed smoking popped into my mind. Lately I had even stopped using nicotine patches; there was enough adrenaline in my life to compensate.

A knock on my door interrupted my train of thought. I peered through the spyhole to see who it was. The redhead who had kidnapped me that first time in New York stood outside the door. Natasha, was that her name? 

I slowly opened the door.

“I thought I wouldn't have to see you again. Shame” she said.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Anyway, I'm not here for idle chat. You called, we came, let's go.” She looked around behind me. “Don't you have something packed? If the threat is as urgent as you say you should stay in the Tower; you'll be safe there.”

“I'm okay.” I would pick the things I may need once I was there. There was no time to be wasted on such inconsequential trifles.

“As you see fit.” She shrugged. “Come on, the quinjet is waiting.”

I did not know what a quinjet was, but I suspected it was a kind of transportation, although I hadn’t heard anything arrive. She guided me towards an empty alley, and for a moment I feared she would open up a sewage cover and jump inside.

She didn’t. Instead, she touched a device in her ear and said  _ ready _ . For a moment nothing happened, but then a gigantic aircraft appeared in the sky. A strangled sound escaped my lips, and I swear I saw the glint of a smile in Natasha’s mouth out of the corner of my eye.

Two smaller aircrafts, each the size of a small car, descended from the helicarrier. They landed just in front of us, with apparently no one piloting them. The redhead approached one of them and unlocked it after punching in a code. A hatch opened in each one of them.

“Get in” she commanded, although the way she said it didn’t look like an order. “You know how to pilot it, right?” She must have seen my face at that, because she quickly added. “Just kidding. I do hope you’re not afraid of heights, though.”

The small airplanes made no sound.

Once on board the bigger aircraft, I got out to see all the Avengers looking at me expectantly. Thor was the first one to break the silence. 

“Sherlock!” he exclaimed, as if we were old friends. “We came as soon as we could.”

“Yeah, eh… Thank you.” I was a little taken aback by the situation. I wasn’t used to not knowing what to say, so I took a moment to collect my thoughts as I rummaged through my pockets to find my phone. “Moriarty sent me this.” I showed them the text message. “Loki’s… Moriarty has him. He’s in danger.”

“How are you so sure Moriarty has kidnapped him and Loki hasn’t changed sides? I mean, it’s Loki we’re talking about; that’s kinda his signature move” Clint argued.

“He wouldn’t… He said he’d come back. He promised.” I knew how that sounded, so I added something to try to cover it up. “We have unfinished business. He came to me to, well, demand more than ask, help in retrieving his helmet and staff, and I haven’t done that yet.”

Maybe that was even worse. I felt like everyone knew, as implausible as that was, but Natasha’s fixed gaze on me made me feel uneasy.

Luckily Captain America nodded slightly and the others seemed to accept it. I relaxed a bit and sighed. I hadn’t realised I was so tense.

“Okay, what do we do now?” asked Bruce Banner. “We don’t know where they are, or even what Moriarty has planned. We’d most likely just end up walking into a trap.”

“Bruce’s right, we can’t go in blind” added Natasha, shifting her attention to me. “You must know something else.”

“Loki teleported there; to where Moriarty was on this Realm, but he’d probably covered his tracks so you can’t track his magic. He usually does that; but he can’t use magic now. I can’t think of any other way Moriarty could have kidnapped him otherwise, even if he had Amora’s help.”

Tony Stark suddenly cursed under his breath.

“Motherfucker.” He then turned to Steve, who shot him an expectant gaze. “So, okay, remember when I developed magic blockers and kinda tuned them to Loki's magic to test them? Well, last night Jarvis told me they'd been stolen.”

“Why hadn't you told us this before?” asked Steve.

“Because ten fucking minutes after that you dragged my ass here, so I haven’t had the chance.”

Captain America didn't answer to that.

“We can track those. They're Stark tech, so you can track them, right?” said Natasha after a moment.

“Yeah, I can do that.” With that, Tony unceremoniously exited the room, presumably to  _ do that.  _

Bruce quietly excused himself and went after him, while Clint had apparently disappeared and Natasha talked to Steve. She shook her head lightly and then left.

Thor came towards me.

“Sherlock” he greeted, with less enthusiasm than the last time. “How are you?”

_ How was I? _ Frankly, that was an annoying question.  _ How was I? _ How was I supposed to feel like? What was the appropriate sentiment in a situation like this?

“I'm fine.” Because whether it was true or not, that was the standard answer.

Thor smiled slightly, a sympathetic smile.

“I wanted to talk to you about my brother.”

Oh. Right. Thor was Loki's brother. I had forgotten about that. They were so different, but so similar at the same time. Like the photo negative of each other. The physical differences were strikingly obvious, but I could see so much of Loki in the way Thor carried himself; there was a hint of pride and superiority there that may have more to do with the fact that they were gods than with their upbringing as brothers. Or maybe that regal composure is exactly what they’d both got from their status as princes of Asgard.

Thor sighed imperceptibly.

“If I know something about my brother is that he’ll survive. He’ll do anything to protect those he cares about.” He smiled at me, a reassuring smile, and I swear I saw a glimpse of knowledge behind those kind eyes, and although it quickly vanished, I was left with the familiar feeling of eyes just like those, but a vivid green, staring at me. “And I’ll do anything to protect him, even if he doesn’t want my help. No matter who hurts him, I’ll always protect him.” Thor’s tone had became more stern at that last part, which made a shiver ran down my spine. Was he referring to Moriarty or did that include me?

He then smiled again, like nothing had happened.

“Do not worry, Sherlock. My brother will come out alive and probably unscathed, as he often does. It’s one of his most remarkable talents. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Thor patted me on the shoulder with enough force to make me stumble forward as he left.

Loki and Thor had more common qualities than Loki would like to admit. Or maybe he didn’t even realised how similar they were. They both loved fiercely, and possessed an almost scary determination to protect their loved ones. They would do terrible things for love, and the world would tell stories about them long after it happened. They already did; the myths and legends were living proof of it.

Captain America had approached me, but I only noticed him when he cleared his throat, which made me almost jump in surprise. I had been too deep in thought, apparently.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” he apologised.

“You didn’t startle me” I said, way too defensively.

There was a moment of silence, as he watched me intently.

“I was meaning to ask you…” he started, but stopped and looked away for a moment. “What kind of relationship do you have with Loki?”

I wasn’t taken completely by surprise by the question, but I wasn’t prepared for it either.

“I already told you, he asked me for help to get his staff and helmet back.”

“Is that all?” He didn’t sound judgemental. “I don’t care, Sherlock, I just want to know how well you know Loki and his… antics.”

“I know him well enough. I am extremely good at reading people, and we’ve been working closely together for months.”

“So I’ve been told.” He looked down again before fixating his eyes on mine. “Do you trust him?”

I took a moment to answer, suddenly unsure.

“Yes” I said at last. I did. I trusted Loki. I knew what he could do, what terrible and unspeakable things he’d done, but I also knew it was necessary. To protect his children, to protect himself, to protect the Realms even. I wasn’t delusional enough to believe he would change who he was for me, for love; that would be like asking to give up his magic, irrational, damning and lethal for him, but I did believe, I  _ knew,  _ that he would do whatever was needed, no matter how devious.

The Captain looked at me for a couple moments more, gauging my response. He finally nodded slightly and flashed the ghost of a smile.

“Alright then, let’s get to work.”

He gestured for me to follow him. We went through multiple identical corridors, but he didn’t hesitate for a second, the only change in his pace being when he stopped in front of a door.

“You can sleep here until we arrive at the Tower. It’s early morning in New York, so you’d better sleep now to avoid jet lag. We’ll assess and plan a rescue when we’re there.”

“Thank you.” 

He opened the door. The room was simple, functional, empty. There was a door leading to a small bathroom, a bed, neatly made, a desk, a chair and and a closet.

“I’ll have someone call you when we arrive.” With that, he left.

Like hell I was staying here. The Captain had gone to meet with the rest of the Avengers and I wouldn’t be sidelined like some damsel in distress. God, not even Loki, in his current predicament, was a damsel in distress. No, I would be part of whatever they planned, and they couldn’t stop me.

There was a mic hidden in the lamp on the bedside table, and a camera in the smoke alarm, but I ignored them. Of course they’d be watching; it was SHIELD, after all.

I opened the door and went the way we had come. I could remember most of the path, so I only had to go back once, when I took a wrong turn and ended up in a gym-like lab.

The hangar where I’d arrived wasn’t my destination, though; the Avengers wouldn’t hold a meeting there, so along the way I searched for more appropriate rooms for that purpose. Many rooms required a key or a code or both to enter. Others weren’t used often, or at least hadn’t been used recently. But the Avengers wouldn’t use a formal meeting room to discuss among themselves; they’d probably prefer somewhere more familiar, less impersonal. The way they acted around each other; they were a team, nearly a family, and they needed polishing, but they trusted each other, and one day they’d be radiant and powerful and maybe even magnificent.

I passed a door, just like the other dozen doors I had already passed, nothing special about it. But I heard voices coming from the inside, and although I couldn’t make out what they were saying, the fact that I could hear them at all meant it wasn’t soundproofed. I leant on the door, ear against it. I still couldn’t distinguish what they were saying, but I thought I caught someone saying Loki, so this had to be it. I opened the door decisively and hoped I was right.

I was.

The Avengers were seated on an irregular circle, some on sofas, Bruce on the floor, Steve was standing. All of them raised their heads to look at the door that had just opened, to look at me, a couple of unfinished sentences trailing off in the air.

“Sherlock” Steve called. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, great, he found our super secret meeting. Didn’t you say you had left him in one of the bedrooms to sleep?” Tony Stark mocked, which earned him an elbow to the ribs courtesy of Natasha.

“I won’t be ignored on this. I can help, and I will find Loki.” There was no way to go but with determination after the kind of entrance I had made.

“Alright, what is going on?” asked Clint. “I thought we already had a plan.”

“We do, I think” intervened Doctor Banner. “As soon as we track Loki we’ll go rescue him and trump Moriarty’s schemes.”

“You can’t go against him like that.” I was horrified. “You are grossly underestimating Moriarty.”

“He’s human, and doesn’t have any kind of powers. We can take him” said Natasha matter-of-factly.

“He’s not… It’s not that easy.” I was so frustrated. They weren’t listening to me. “He has Amora’s help.”

“We know, and we are prepared for her. I have created contingencies in case something like this happened.” Tony was scrutinizing me, and I saw the shadow of doubt in his stare. He suspected about my relationship with Loki. It didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

“She already infiltrated once, what makes you think you can outmaneuver her now?”

“We won’t need to. We just have to subdue her.” Natasha was too calm for my liking. How could she be so calm? I was freaking out.

Something beeped, and Stark took a pad out of his back pocket.

“Jarvis found them. He found him.” He looked straight at me while saying that.

“Suit up” commanded Steve.


	55. Lying, Manipulation & Machinations

John stood awkwardly, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. He had tried asking where we were, what Jim was doing, to no avail, so he’d stopped. He didn’t talk to me and I didn’t talk to him either; if he directly asked something about his past I didn’t know if I’d be able to avoid the question.

Besides, I had things to do. If my theory was correct, and the shackles had neutralised the glamour spell, I could escape. Fight. Survive. I couldn’t feel my fingers due to the spell binding my magic and the hours I’d been in this uncomfortable position, but nonetheless I tried to move them. 

I didn’t know if it worked, so I tried to look up. The blue would settle first on the limbs, crawling upwards like cursed vines towards my heart, so my fingers would be the first ones to be affected. My neck muscles complained at the sudden movement, but I managed to turn my head enough. Nothing. They were… normal. No blue in sight. I could move them, I realised, but I didn’t feel them. They were numb, and cold. How could I be cold if I had Æsir skin? I was never cold, except for those rare occasions when I exposed my Jötunn skin, and even then I wasn’t really cold, just aware of the temperature of my own body. I had read somewhere I could control the temperature of my body, but I lacked the training, having been so long in my Æsir skin.

Sometimes Jim looked at me and smiled, but Amora purposefully ignored me. All the better, I didn't want to have to put up with her petty annoyance right now. Or ever.

After what felt like hours, John cleared his throat and spoke:

“What is it exactly what you’re trying to do here?”

“That is of no importance for you. Do not worry your pretty little blond head about it” Moriarty responded, without raising his gaze.

“Then I don’t understand what it is you want me to do here.”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re the entertainment.” I could see Jim looking at me from the corner of his eye when he said that last word. John noticed it too and looked at me like a confused puppy.

I suddenly understood everything. Why Jim had allowed the doctor to come, to stay. It had seem a capricious whim at the moment, but now it was clear it had been a carefully planned move. 

_ Entertainment _ . That was the word I had used to describe John Watson once, and I had complained about Sherlock’s entertainment to Moriarty. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots and realise who that was, even if I hadn’t used his actual name.

Jim had planned having him there. Why, I was not entirely sure. It could be to simply stir Sherlock’s anger or sense of betrayal, or it could be way worse. Worse as in he’d tell the truth about John, about what I’d done, and then everything would be over. For me, for Sherlock, for any chance that we had. It would destroy him, and it would ruin me. I could not possibly go back to Avengers Tower, and I’m banished from Asgard; not that I’d go back there.

I had nowhere to go.

I didn’t want to have to go anywhere. I wanted to stay with Sherlock, I realised. Despite everything, all the lying and manipulation and machinations, I truly wanted to do this right. I had finally found a place, a person, with whom I wanted to stay forever. I wanted Sherlock to accept me, to truly accept me as I was, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. If he ever found out the truth about me, about everything I’ve done, he would abandon me. Nobody would love a trickster. A monster. Blue skin or not, that was what I was.

Moved by desperation and fear of losing the only thing that mattered to me, I began to plot a plan to try and get out unscathed from this gruesome situation.

“Oh, so you brought an entertainment so I wouldn’t get bored. That’s so thoughtful of you, James.” I smiled with as much fakeness as I could muster, but Moriarty didn’t pay any attention to me. He just hummed an uninterested “uh” and kept working on whatever it was he was working on.

Moriarty hadn’t reacted, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t got to him. I liked to believe I knew him enough to know what buttons to push.

“What is the plan, then?” I asked.

“I’ve already explained it to you, dear.” He didn’t make any attempt to try and look at me.

“Oh, I know. I was referring to your love life.” He didn’t turn, but I could see the tension in his shoulders strain the fabric of his suit ever so slightly.

“Do you want to talk about  _ my  _ love life? Why not about yours? I’m sure it’s way more entertaining… And extensive.” There was that word again. I was treading on dangerous waters, but this was the only way to get him to talk.

“Nah. Let’s talk about Molly. That flimsy human. I know, I know, she is technically dating the other you, but still, you care about her. Are you two  —three, sorry— going to try the long distance thing or…?”

He got tenser with each passing moment, but Jim simply sighed out loud and got himself together in a matter of seconds.

“Oh, my my, Loki. You never shut up, do you?”

“I’ve been told it’s one of my most charming defects.” I answered with a sly smile.

“Okay, speak then.” Moriarty mirrored my insolent smile with a wicked one of his own. “So was sex with Sherlock? I hope he wasn’t his usual cold and detached self.”

John didn’t say anything, but I saw him swallow and look away before I sensed what could only be the spell acting up. I tried to fight it, but the more I resisted the harder it was for me to breathe and think clearly. There was no avoiding telling the truth.

“I’ve had better.” Moriarty looked genuinely surprised by that. “The man is only human, after all. But I wouldn’t change it. I love him.”

That last part escaped my lips before I could register what I’d said. There was no way to avoid telling the truth, but resisting had made me light-headed and vulnerable to saying more than strictly necessary.

“Look at our personal favourite soldier. You’re going to make him cry.”   
“I do not have those kinds of feelings for Sherlock. It was a job, nothing else” he said, but he was clearly affected. I realised then he didn’t know Sherlock and I had slept together. 

“I see.” Moriarty looked at me for a moment before fixing his gaze back on the doctor. “So you do not care at all if Sherlock and Loki have sex, and fall in love, and make a life without you, and all those things people usually do?”

“What they do is none of my business.”

“Will you look at that, Loki. You’ve done truly a marvelous job.” I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood to avoid saying anything I didn’t have to. “Could have fooled me, for sure.”

“James, I could make you suffer an unfathomable pain.”

“And I know that’s true.” He opened his mouth to say something more, probably  _ it’s Jim, not James, _ but he closed it without saying anything.

I looked at John out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction to the veiled truth Jim had almost sprung on him. The whole point of my being here, in this ridiculous situation, had been because I had tried to keep it from him. It would be a shame to fail now; I would have to kill the soldier to keep Sherlock from knowing the truth. He would probably see what I’d done the instant he saw me, but it was better that way. I could lie to him about my motives for killing his friend, but he could never,  _ never _ , know the whole truth. I knew he would never trust me again, and trust was such a rare thing in my life.

“What's going on?” John asked. I mean, he wasn't  _ that  _ stupid; it was pretty obvious something was going on.

Luckily, he hadn't directed the question towards me, because I didn't feel that pull to spill my guts on the spot.

“Do you want to answer that, Loki?”

“No.” I was right; if I didn't resist I could choose how much I said, to an extent.

“A shame.” He then turned to the other man. “As you see, nothing is going on.” 

The blatantly fake tone of voice he said that in couldn't have possibly satisfied John, but he didn't comment on it any further.

Amora suddenly cleared her throat in an attempt to get Moriarty’s attention.

“It is ready” she simply said.

Jim clapped like an excited five-year old.

“Now we wait.”

“Wait for what?” the doctor asked, before I could.

“For them to arrive, of course.”


	56. The One Who Knows And Does Not Care

“Where are they?” asked Natasha, just slightly more agitated than she was a moment before.

“Svartalfheim, apparently” Tony answered, without raising his eyes from the screen. “Thor?”

“It’s the land of the dark elves, although they are almost extinct now” the god explained, but made a small pause before continuing. “I can see why Moriarty would go there; the remaining elves most probably harbour some animosity towards Asgardians.”

“And why is that?” I asked, even though I already suspected the violent nature of the answer.

“The Æsir and the svartálfar waged war centuries ago, resulting in the extermination of the dark elves and the ravaging of their world. It is but a wasteland now.”

“Moriarty wants to exploit that. If the planet lacks any useful resources he must be after an army. What better than a planet full of elves with a grudge” commented Natasha. “Amora is probably his liaison with them.”

Captain Rogers nodded.

“It’s important to know why he chose that planet, but for now we can only speculate.” He didn’t hesitate even for a moment before going on. “We’ll be divided in two groups. Thor, Clint and I will take care of whomever is waiting for us in Svartalfheim. Tony, you and Nat go rescue Loki, and be careful with Amora; Moriarty will want to keep them both close. Bruce, you stay as backup in case we need you.”

“Thank you” mumbled Doctor Banner.

“Wait, what about me?” I exclaimed.

“What about you?” Clint crossed his arms over his chest.

“You can’t leave me here. I have to go with you.”

Steve sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Look, Sherlock, I understand it’s difficult to stay behind, but it’s what’s best. We can handle this, and we’ll bring Loki back with no—”

“I think he’s right” Stark cut him. Captain America didn’t even look slightly surprised by his interrupting him. “He knows Moriarty, and Loki trusts him more than he trusts us.” There was hurt in his words, but he truly believed them. Just how much did he know about Loki and me? I hadn’t disclosed our relationship to any of them, but somehow they all seemed to know, or at least suspected it.

“Tony, this is not the time—”

“He’s coming” he declared. “I’ll take care of him. He can come with Nat and me.” Agent Romanoff arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. She actually looked more resigned than annoyed at the prospect of having to carry me.

“Okay, fine. But be careful.”

“When am I not?” Tony winked playfully and exited the room before Steve could sigh again.

That was a kind of unspoken signal to get ready, as the Avengers started moving immediately, almost in synch. Some didn’t need much preparation, as was the case of Doctor Banner, and others disappeared in an instant, like Romanoff and Barton. I didn’t know what to do. They undoubtedly had a very rehearsed protocol for situations such as these, but I was frankly out of my depth.

Tony reentered the room, already in one of his suits but with the helmet off.

“So I’m guessing it’s pretty chilly in this planet? Might want to get a coat, Thor” he commented, pointing to the bare arms of the god.

Thor laughed, a genuine laugh, and it seemed to reduce the tension in the room. “Oh, you’re funny Tony.”

All the Avengers came back eventually, with Captain America entering last.

“I’ve told the pilot to drop us wherever there’s land so we can Bifröst out of here. It shouldn’t be long now. Are you all ready?”

“Clint’s getting some extra layers of clothes. You know how he is with the cold.” Natasha pointed in the general direction behind her.

“Good.” Steve then turned towards me. “Are you sure you want to come? No one will blame you if you stay.”

“I am sure. I am going.” I eyed Tony briefly. “I’m sure Iron Man can protect me if there’s any need.”

“ _ ‘If there’s any need’ _ ” Stark quoted. “You don’t have to act all tough, Sherlock. But yeah, you’ll be fine. I’ll be with you, after all.”

“I don’t—” I started to complain, but Captain America spoke before I could finish the sentence.

“We’re about to land. Let’s go.”

Clint had just walked through the door, so Nat didn’t have to go look for him. We all marched down the corridors like some kind of, well, avengers. They all looked almost the same, but there were small differences that made them distinguishable to a trained eye. I didn’t bother to pay attention to them.

The helicarrier was too big to properly land it, so what Captain America meant by “land” was that we were close enough to the earth to be able to take a quinjet. The Avengers kept discussing the minutiae of the strategy on the way down, but I was too distraught to pay much attention. Suddenly it was all too real. Loki was gone, and what if he was dead? I couldn’t fathom my life without him now. He had been such an integral part of me these last months it was hard to imagine going back to that dull life from before. No, I couldn’t even go back to that life; not now that I knew John wasn’t… that he was a spy for Moriarty, and not who I thought he was. 

A hand on the shoulder startled me out of my thoughts.

“We’re almost there. Get ready.” It was Stark, who looked away for a moment before adding: “He’ll be fine. He always is. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“Maybe  _ you  _ should stop worrying, because I don’t.” That was a blatant lie, but I wasn’t in the mood for talking. 

“Ouch. Look, you know Loki better than me, apparently, so tell me, is he about to kick Moriarty’s ass and come back here bitching about how he messed his hair even though he didn’t?”

The thought did make me smile a bit, because that was such a Loki thing to do.

“Maybe” I said after a pause.

“Then don’t worry.” He still had his hand on my shoulder, so I assumed he still had something to say. “Sherlock, look… I know that he… I hadn’t realised that I had…” He sighed exasperatedly. “I just want Loki to be happy, so please, take care of him.”

“We aren’t—” I started to say, but saw Tony’s expression and shut up. Okay, he knew. It’s fine. He didn’t seem to be against it. “I will.”

Stark smiled and lowered the faceplate of his suit.

“Let’s get this party started” he announced.

The quinjet landed softly and we all stepped out. We were in an ordinary field, with nothing special to point to its location. Judging by the angle of the sun and the little landscape that could be seen from here, I’d say we were somewhere in Germany or Poland, but I wasn’t concentrated enough to deduce the exact place.

Thor walked a bit ahead of the rest of us and raised his hammer.

“Heimdall! Open the Bifröst to Svartalfheim!”

For a moment nothing happened, but then a beam of light struck the earth just beside us. One by one, and without saying anything, all the Avengers stepped into the rainbow and disappeared, with Thor last.

“Come on, Sherlock.”

He waited and signaled for me to do as the others. I got into the Bifröst, expecting a similar experience as when teleporting, but they were nothing alike. There was no force pulling your skin, or any void to swallow you whole. It was just light. Light everywhere, engulfing me and everything around me, but I felt nothing out of the ordinary. It was like a luminous lift.

A moment later, the light was gone, replaced by an almost darkness. It took some seconds to get accustomed to the dim glimmer. The only source of light seemed to be a dark hole in the sky where the sun ought to be.

“Welcome to Svartalfheim” said Thor bitterly.

“Wow you weren’t kidding when you said it was a wasteland” commented Clint.

“Keep your eyes open. It may be a trap” Captain America warned. He looked around and located a small hill near that was a good vantage point. “Let’s go there. We’ll be able to see if anyone comes.”

“We should get going too. Tony, do you know exactly where they are?” Natasha asked.

“Yes. Jarvis is calculating an ETA by land.”

“Good.”

Suddenly, the ground started shaking, but it wasn't an earthquake. I heard Captain Rogers scream something and Iron Man shot upwards briefly before coming back down.

“There's an army! They're coming, fast!”

“We need to move now! Iron Man, Black Widow, take Sherlock and go! The rest will take on the army” he then turned to Banner. “Bruce, we need the other guy.”   
“I understand.” He swallowed and a moment later his skin started turning green, until the doctor was no more, and in his place stood the Hulk.   
“Hulk, you stay here and take the front side. Clint, you and I will take the left flank. Thor, the right. We’ll surround them first, then—”   
Captain America kept on barking orders, but Iron Man had already grabbed me and agent Romanoff and started flying, so his shouts faded in the distance. He flew us to a nearby cliff before he softly dropped us off.   
“Okay, we’re close. According to JARVIS they’re just a couple of kilometres ahead, but we should hurry.”   
“Yes. We don’t know how long the rest will be able to hold them off. It was clearly an ambush, so we should expect more traps on the way.” Natasha’s voice was just a bit less stable than it had been, but there was a gleam in her eyes that showed she was as alert as ever.   
“I’ll go ahead and scan the terrain while you go on foot. I’ll let you know if there’s anything to worry about” said Stark before propelling himself into the air.   
“Are you okay?” asked Natasha after he was gone.   
“What?”   
“Are you okay?” she repeated.   
“I’m fine.”   
She eyed me intently but let it go. Everything was moving too fast for me to process, but I couldn’t let my emotions cloud my mind, not now. It would have to wait until Loki was back and safe in my arms.   
“Then let’s go.”   
She started walking at a way too fast pace for me to follow comfortably, but I suspected she was slowing down because of me.   
We went in silence for about fifteen minutes before Iron Man came back down and told us —or rather Natasha— of some zones we needed to avoid. It was best not to trigger any of the traps, so they didn’t know we were coming, or at least where we were.   
Natasha didn’t try to make small talk, and I was grateful for that. Despite our rocky initial contact, the spy was rising up to be my favourite Avenger. She was efficient and sensible and probably the smartest person in the room if I wasn’t there, but I suspected she was also fiercely loyal and warm to her few friends.   
We kept walking for some more, until Stark warned us again of some traps he’d detected, which made us change our route. I estimated that we’d walked around a kilometre and a half, but I didn’t know how much distance was left. Each moment made me more anxious, but there was nothing I could do but keep going. The dim light and rough landscape didn’t help, and I mainly followed Natasha, who seemed to know exactly where we were going. I could barely see what was in front of me, much less far enough to make out what is we were looking for.   
Suddenly, Natasha tackled me and threw me to the ground. Before I could think about what was going on, she got up and I saw the scorched patch of earth beside us. Natasha motioned for me to get up and take cover, and Iron Man descended and immediately raised his arm, ready to shoot. I got up and got behind Black Widow for protection against whatever or whomever that had attacked us.   
“Not to steal your not-so-proverbial lightning, but I’ve already seen you, Amora. No need to hide now” said Tony, his voice slightly robotic through the suit.   
A loud laugh was heard, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and then she appeared, among a storm of her own creation. Lightning struck down on us, and I was lucky to avoid getting hit.   
“You came. He said you’d come” she said, her voice echoing in the storm, “for him.”   
“Where is he?! Where is Loki?!” I screamed, unable to control myself.   
Amora turned her attention towards me, her eyes piercing me, and I had to fight to contain the urge to shiver.   
“You fool. You mortal, weak fool. It’s too late. Even if you get to him, Jim has everything planned.”   
“Care to elaborate on that glorious plan, dear? Or he just has you around as his personal Thor wannabe?” Tony asked, still aiming towards her.   
“Moriarty doesn’t need to tell me; I know it’ll succeed.”   
“I see, so he still hasn’t left that doctor from the morgue for you. I’m sorry to tell you, but I think you’re the mistress.”   
The Enchantress screamed in rage and attacked, provoked by what Tony had just said. Iron Man shot at her, and agent Romanoff turned to me before getting into battle too.   
“Sherlock, go! We’ll take care of her!”   
I nodded although she didn’t see me and ran, avoiding the shots as best as I could. I ran and I didn’t look back, trusting the Avengers to survive. It couldn’t be far now, he couldn’t be far. I just had to keep running.   
The fight started to fade into the distance, but I still didn’t look back until I could only hear the muffled rainstorm that surrounded Amora. I was almost climbing now, so from where I was I could see everything that was happening; part of the Avengers fighting the elven hordes while Tony and Natasha fought Amora. They seemed to be holding their own, but I wasn’t able to relax even a little bit.   
I took a second to breathe and continued. I was so tired, but I couldn’t allow myself to stop now.   
Finally, I saw it. I saw them. They were in some kind of building; now in ruins, but it must have been really grand once. I got close enough to look in through the missing windows without being seen. First I saw Moriarty, and for a moment I thought that maybe Loki wasn’t there after all, that it had all been for nothing, but then something moved in the corner and I saw him.   
He was kneeling, wrists bound and chained to the ceiling. He was pale, paler than usual, and looked exhausted and drained and oh so angry. I didn’t remember ever seeing such a fire in his green eyes, but he hid it well, which meant he must have been plotting something. Behind that anger I could see a hint of desperation, even better masked than the anger. What had Moriarty done to him?   
But what jumped to my attention were his hands. I loved Loki’s hands, the way he waved them gracefully when casting magic, or how they would cup my cheek in the softest way. And now… they were blue. It wasn’t obvious, and Moriarty must’ve not noticed yet, but there was an undeniable tinge of blue in them that had nothing to do with the lack of blood flow. It probably had to do with the magic blocker Stark had developed; if it stopped any and all magic in Loki, that included the glamour that gave him his Æsir appearance. Then he just needed more time for the Jötunn skin to kick in.   
I had to buy him some.   
I stepped right into the room, as if going for a stroll, feigning indifference even though my heart was beating like a hammer. John was there too, and he noticed me first. I hadn’t seen him through the window.   
“Sherlock” he just said, which made Moriarty turn around to look at me and Loki raise his head.   
“At last! Welcome, Sherlock, I’ve been waiting for you” Jim greeted way too gleefully.   
“Cut the crap, Moriarty. I’ve come for Loki, and you can’t stop me.” I had completely ignored John, even if he was standing right in front of me. It was easy to literally overlook him given his height.   
“Oh, sure, sure, but don’t you want to stay for a bit? Things are about to get interesting.”   
I didn’t know what he meant, and I didn’t even want to know what he meant, but I knew he was only being agreeable because I was playing along. I just wanted to take Loki and leave.   
“Interesting?” I asked. Slowly, I started to move towards Jim, but maintaining my distance so I could easily get to Loki too.   
“Yes. Our dear trickster is about to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Aren’t you, Loki?”   
Loki looked down and made a grimace, like he just tasted something bitter. After a moment, he spoke:   
“Yes.”


	57. Dark Gods, Predators & Wild Cards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go. Bear with me, and thank you.

He came. He actually came. For me. For a moment that was all I could think about, before the fear and regret kicked in. If Sherlock was here, it meant he was in danger. I was in danger too, a far graver one now that I couldn’t lie and he could hear everything. Instinctively I fought against the chains that bound me, trying to break free in a futile attempt I knew was unsuccessful even before I tried. The rattling sound echoed through the room, but nobody paid attention to it. Or to me. The silence hung heavy on the air after Moriarty’s dramatic declaration almost a full minute before:

_ “Our dear trickster is about to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Aren’t you, Loki?” _ _  
_ I had tried to resist, I really had, but there was no use. The harder I fought the worse it would get, and I wouldn’t be able to even notice what I said before the damage was done.

“Yes” I had simply answered. Each word tasted like metal on my tongue.

Sherlock hadn’t reacted much, but Jim was all smug smiles and controlled looks. I could tell Sherlock was trying to appear calm, but I caught him looking at me from the corner of the eye a couple of times. I could only hope Moriarty hadn’t noticed as well.

“What do you want?” he finally asked.

“What do I want? What a difficult question, isn’t it? What  _ do I _ want? Let me think…” He eyed me intently for a moment. “Oh, I know! I want to destroy you, and all the little people who want to come against me. Like those pesky Avengers fighting minions out there. It does seem like a waste, doesn’t it?”

“Alright, you have me. Let Loki go.”

Moriarty smiled, all teeth and venomous promises.

“No no no, you don’t get it. That is not how this works. I thought you were better. I thought you could actually go against me and make me sweat. But you’ve changed.” He shook his head, visibly disappointed. “I should have never agreed to Loki’s plan; just look at what you’ve become.”

At that Sherlock shifted his attention completely to James.

“What do you mean?” he asked, each syllable like a dagger in my mind. Sherlock’s nostrils flared momentarily, dreading the answer.

“I wasn’t supposed to say that. Fuck. But, we may as well ask Loki himself.” Moriarty looked at me, his eyes cutting all the way down to my bones. “After all, he can’t lie now.”

I took a deep breath, preparing for the question to come. I couldn’t stand to look at Sherlock when the truth spilled from me like a river full of pathetic excuses, so I didn’t. This was the end. I could almost hear the crackling laughter of the Norns as they wove my life thread into their damned tapestry. All I could do now was hope that I could save our lives. He could  —and would—  hate me later, but he needed to be alive for that.

Nobody spoke for some long seconds, and for a moment I thought Moriarty would let it pass, that I wouldn’t have to submit myself to the humiliation of being stripped of my free will yet again. But it was a false hope, and it soon faded as James spoke again:

“Aren’t you going to ask, Sherlock? I’m sure you are full of questions right now, I can almost see the gears working in your mind.” Sherlock didn’t respond. His gaze was presumably fixed on me, but I didn’t dare confirm it. “I guess I’ll have to do it myself.”

Before I could stop myself, I looked up at Moriarty in a last plea for mercy. I knew it was useless, he was too cruel and sadistic for that, but there was something in me that just had to try. His only response was a small smirk as he asked.

“Loki” he breathed the word like a prayer to a twisted dark god, and oh how fitting it was, “who is John, really? Is he really my spy?”

Every hope of an open question I had got with the first sentence came crumbling down with the second’s limitation. A simple yes or no statement could do such damage.

In a fraction of second I assessed my options, just fast enough to avoid the churning sensation that came over me if I tried to resist, but not fast enough to see a way out, if there even was one.

“No” I felt sick, and it wasn’t because of the spell, “he isn’t.”

“And just how is that, Loki?” Moriarty kept asking. He seemed to get closer and closer with each word. I couldn’t breathe, it was overwhelming. My head spun, and I got the urge to rub my temple. I wasn’t surprised about the headache he was giving me, but it was unexpected to feel my fingers trying to move. I could  _ feel  _ my hands. I didn’t dare look at them, or make any movement that could have attracted attention to them, for I suspected they were turning blue. And if that was the case, I still had a chance.

“I made him believe that he was. I tampered with his mind” I answered after the first wave of nausea overcame me, and I mentally scolded myself for allowing it to happen. I couldn’t afford to be weak now.

“And?”

“I thought it was best to get him out of the way. He was already in SHIELD’s custody, so it wasn’t hard to gain access to him.”

I swallowed, mustering all the courage I could find to look up and meet Sherlock’s eyes. That was a mistake. I saw nothing. He wasn’t even looking at me; his eyes were fixed on the infinite, wide with shock and disbelief.

“Sherlock…” I started, and that made him snap out of it. When he looked at me, my heart sank. “Sherlock, believe me when I say I am sorry. I can’t lie now. I’m sorry I’m so sorry, Sherlock. I wish I could fix it. I know this sounds hollow but I—”

“How long?” he cut me, voice echoing through the room. “How long have you been lying to me?”

“Sherlock, I—”   
“I said  _ how long _ ?”

“Since I rescued you from SHIELD. John was there with me, but I left him to be captured.” I tried to look away, to avoid his blazing eyes from burning me, but I couldn’t. His gaze pinned me in place. It was like looking at my own car crash.

Sherlock took a deep breath and turned to Moriarty.

“You told me that he was your spy.”

“I only did as Loki asked me. It seemed hilarious, making you believe your beloved soldier was actually under my control.” Jim was smiling gleefully, like a child on Christmas morning.

Sherlock spoke to me again.

“Why?” His voice was still sharp as a knife, but this time there was a desperate edge to his words. “Why would you do that?”

_ I trusted you. _

“I was afraid” I admitted, “I thought I needed to eliminate him to get you! I was weak and selfish and wrong, I know that now. But please, please, Sherlock, believe me, I’m sorry, I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

At that he looked away, but I remained unable to do the same. He was hurt, rightfully so, and it was breaking my heart. It wasn’t even for the consequences, or my lies being exposed, or even because of the devastating sight before my eyes. No, I was hurting because  _ he  _ was hurting. I had done horrible things to him, and I genuinely felt bad about it and not just about getting caught. The unfamiliar feeling left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Sherlock turned wordlessly to John, who was standing completely still at a distance. I hadn’t noticed him, but Sherlock obviously had. They exchanged a look I couldn’t see from my position on my knees, but it seemed to carry a whole conversation with it. Sherlock’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and panic rose in my chest.

“Kill me now and end this madness” I said, looking directly into Jim’s eyes. He only smiled. “That’s what you want, right? You don’t care about this world, you don’t even care about Sherlock. You want me. My magic. That’s what you’ve been after this whole time.”

His smiled only widened.

“What a clever little snake you are, Loki.” He started walking towards me, slowly, like a predator closing in on its prey. “But that’s not all, I’m afraid. I’ve prepared an… entertainment.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the word, and he took a step forward. It had been instinctive, a primal need to protect, and the fact that he had come closer to me didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh Sherlock, look at you. This will be so fun.”

He didn’t answer, but glared at Moriarty in a way that made my blood freeze. I squirmed in my bounds, and felt a twinge of satisfaction when I noticed I could sense almost up to my shoulders. I just needed a bit more time…

“Now that the cat is out of the bag” Moriarty continued, “I guess it’s time to explain some things so your little heads can wrap around what’s happening here.” He made a pause for dramatic effect, looking into the eyes of each of us in the process. “So, here’s the deal. At least one of us isn’t getting out alive. Simple as that. What you have to do is choose who.”

“What about your plan?” John asked, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Oh, yeah, I forgot you don’t understand things. Okay, who wants to explain my plan to the pinhead? Loki, darling, do the honours.”   
“He wants my magic. He’s going to steal it from me, which will kill me. Magic is an essential part of my being, and I can’t survive without it the same way humans can’t survive without blood or a heart” I explained. I was suddenly so tired. “All of this is a pantomime to hide his true intentions.”

“Exactly. But to be fair, I would rob you of your very soul if needed. It’s not personal, dear.”

“And what do you want us to do? What is the point of us being here?” Sherlock asked, even though he probably knew the answer already. His eyes had that glint they usually had when he was focused.

“You are going to make this interesting” Jim said, pronouncing each word as a sentence. “It’s not fun if there’s no risk of failing, right? So, if you do nothing, I get Loki’s magic, he dies, and I let you and your soldier free. I pinky promise. I’ll have bigger fish to fry anyway. But.” He raised a finger to shut Sherlock up, who had opened his mouth presumably to complain. “If you choose to kill me instead, John will die.”

Sherlock opened his mouth again, and Moriarty sighed.

“Jesus, let me finish before you start talking. Our dear Loki put a gps tracker in John, near his heart. Now, he didn’t know this so don’t blame him for it, but I modified it with Amora’s help to turn it into an explosive device. The woman is certainly imaginative, I’ll give her that. If I die, he dies.”

Oh. I had completely forgotten about the gps. It seemed to have been so long ago. But John had known about it, and he must have told Moriarty. He had thought he was a spy for the man, and a loyal one at that, after all.

“That is not what we discussed” John said suddenly, looking legitimately pissed.

“What we discussed” Moriarty hissed “does not apply anymore.”

He strode towards the desk he had been working at, and opened one of the drawers. From my position I couldn’t see what he took until he turned and handed it to Sherlock.

“Now, choose. The soldier, or the trickster?” Sherlock looked at the gun carefully, not making any move to take it. “Tick tock, dear.” He kept still, and Moriarty sighed. “What is your problem? Just take the gun. Here, I’ll load it for you.”

He took the safety off and racked the slide. The metallic click it made was enough to snap Sherlock out of his reverie. Moriarty grinned and handed it to him. This time Sherlock looked at it, then at Jim and then at the gun again before taking it reluctantly.

Sherlock looked at John, and then at me. He had tried to hide it, but it was clear to someone who knew him as well as I did that he was terrified. He was being forced to make an impossible choice, but I knew what the right answer was. 

“Sherlock, leave. Take John and go.” It was obvious, and only fair. I had brought only misery and heartbreak to everyone in my life, and he wasn’t the exception, as much as I had wanted to believe that. “Leave me here. You can go, be happy with him.”

“Loki…” he started. “I can’t just do that.”

“Yes you can! Of course you can! I am a monster and you know that. You know all the unspeakable things I’ve done, the horrible lies I’ve told, even to you! You can’t possibly love me. I am unlovable and selfish and manipulative. You know it’s the right decision. Leave me here. Live.” 

I hadn’t even planned to say all that, or at least that much, but it was the truth. Maybe because of the spell, or maybe because I just needed to make him  _ see,  _ but there was something that made me say more than I intended. I couldn’t bear to watch him get hurt again if I could avoid it. This was for the best.

“Loki, I —”  _ I love you, _ he wanted to say. I could see it in his eyes, in the way they closed when the words wouldn’t come out, in the sting of pain that pierced me when he couldn’t say it.

“No. You love him. You don’t love me. You can’t. I’ve broken it, I’ve broken us. Be with him, have a chance to live a normal, boring life.”

“But—”

“Look at him, Sherlock. Look at John. He loves you. He must be confused now, but he’ll come back. The John you know and love will come back to you. Even if you don’t trust me, believe me on this, please. Please leave.”  _ I love you too _ , I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. The words got stuck on my throat, and I knew it wasn’t because of the spell. He would never leave me to die if I said it.

His eyes found mine and I held my gaze, pleading. I am not one for it, yet here I was, a god, on my knees, begging for the man I love to abandon me. He eventually looked down, at the gun in his hands. He held it carefully, as if he had never seen one before. I was so close to making him do the right thing, I couldn’t break down now. I was so close. Maybe this counted as battle. Maybe I’d go to Valhalla, and not Hel. I didn’t know how I felt about the perspective. Part of me wanted to see my daughter again, but not in these circumstances. Maybe in the next cycle I wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Maybe.

Sherlock held the gun more firmly. He had made his choice. I trusted him, and yet I felt the pulse in my throat, choking me, leaving me without air. He looked at the floor resolutely, his grip on the gun tightening.

Then I heard a gunshot.


	58. The One Who Can Make The Choice

For a moment, the world stopped. Maybe it was more. I don’t know. All I could feel was the ringing in my ears. Everything was in moving slow motion, and I was painfully aware of every detail, every shade and every single minutiae, even more so than usual.

The gunshot had been close, but not close enough to actually _feel it_. So I hadn’t been the one shot. Good, that was good. I wasn’t shot. It didn’t feel like the other time I had been shot either. Good, good, yeah. Not shot.

Loki was in front of me. He had frozen, or maybe I was just too shaken to notice if he was moving. There was no blood, though, and I was pretty sure he was bulletproof. Yes, he was. He had told me once. Yes, yes, he had told me. Normal bullets wouldn’t hurt him. It wasn’t Loki either.

That only left two options, maybe three, if the gun had been fired into the air, but I hadn’t heard the bullet hit anything hard like stone or concrete, so that hope didn’t last long.

I turned, slowly or at full speed, I am not sure. Time felt different. I saw Moriarty, standing where he had been, a ferocious and almost violent smile on his lips. His arm raised, his eyes gleaming, his gun smoking. In front of him, just behind me, John collapsed to the floor.

First I saw the blood, seeping through his clothes like a crimson curse, tainting his sweater, the same beige sweater I had taken off of him so many nights. He took a hand to the bleeding wound, a shocked look in his eyes. The pain hadn’t kicked in yet, or at least he hadn’t registered it. John fell to his knees first, then to the ground, limp and lifeless like a doll.

“I told you Sherlock was the only one who could make this choice, dummy. You can’t just break the rules” I heard Moriarty say. He seemed so far away, so distant, but it made me come back to reality and fully realise the situation I was in.

I rushed to John’s side, and I found myself praying to an unknown entity for him to be still alive. He couldn’t die, not yet. He couldn’t do this to me.

He was still alive, but barely. His skin was pale and sticky with cold sweat.

“Sh-Sherlock” he muttered. His breath was quick, laboured.

“John, I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay.” I put his head on my lap and raised the sweater to see the extent of the injury. Fuck. “Everything is going to be fine.”

_It’s not fine. The bullet has ruptured his spleen; he’s bleeding out. He doesn’t have long._

_Shut up shut up shut up shut up.._

I frantically applied pressured on the gushing wound, trying to prevent the inevitable. His pulse was weak and fast, his heart’s way of trying to keep him alive. A little part of me recognised the signs of a hypovolemic shock, but I hushed that part, I couldn’t face it, not now.

Suddenly, I heard a sound loud enough to get my attention away from John. It was Loki. He was blue, and furious. He had ripped his chains from the stone and was running towards Moriarty, who had no time to react. Despite the situation, despite having a dying man in my arms, despite everything that was happening, I couldn’t help but think that my god, he was utterly _beautiful_ , in that overwhelming and monstrous way that vengeful angels are. His eyes glowed like molten rubies as he dug his icy black claws on the human’s flesh, strikes of red blood tainting the dark blue markings on his skin. Loki looked powerful, savage, _divine_.

It was over even before it had started. I tore my gaze from him and turned it back to John. It had been barely seconds, but he was already paler.

“John, stay with me, please, stay awake.”

“Sherlock.” His voice was weak and trembling, and his eyes were weary, but he grabbed onto my shirt with his fist. “Listen to me.”

I bent my head to hear him better; he was speaking so quietly I almost couldn’t make out what he said.

“Yes, John, I’m here.”

“Sherlock… I’m a doctor” he simply said, but the meaning those words carried was too much, and I felt warm tears on my eyes. He knew exactly what was happening, and all my empty reassuring wouldn’t fool him. “It’s okay, Sherlock, I made the choice. I knew you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you made it.”

“John, you can’t—”

“I’m dying, Sherlock. I don’t have long.” Hearing him say it out loud suddenly made it real, and I found myself being unable to speak. “I love you. I love you so much, more than I’ve loved anyone. I love you enough to see you with another, if that makes you happy. So be happy, Sherlock. Forgive Loki. You love him.”

“But you aren’t a spy, you never were.”

“You believed I was, and that changed you. You don’t love me anymore. Maybe you could love me again, but now we’ll never know.” He made a pause. His breath was slowing down, and so was his pulse. He was fading away.

“John!” I shook him lightly.

“Forgive, and love. Don’t be afraid, Sherlock” he exhaled. He was so pale, so incredibly weak.

He closed his eyes. I tried to wake him up, but he didn’t react. His grip had left my shirt somewhere during his words, and I no longer could see his chest moving when he breathed. I took his pulse. It was there. Faint, slow, fading. Dying. I felt it disappear, and then, it just… wasn’t there.

He wasn’t there.

He was gone.

He was fading, dying, _dead_.

He felt the same as he had just moments before, but at the same time he felt completely different. He wasn’t John anymore, he was just a carcass.

I still held the carcass in my arms as I cried.

Loki stood behind me, at a distance. I knew he was there, but I didn’t care. He didn’t matter right now. John was… and I couldn’t care about anything. Not even him. Not now.

He didn’t say anything as I cried and sobbed and screamed and hugged his… the body in my arms. He didn’t say anything as the human he claimed to love grieved.

I eventually stopped, not because I no longer wanted to tear my throat out screaming, but because I ran out of tears, or so it seemed. I didn’t actually know if that was anatomically possible. I looked up, and Loki was there. He was just standing there, bloodstained and blue and wary, like I was some kind of animal. Like he wasn’t literally a frost giant who had just violently murdered someone with his bare hands.

“Sherlock” he started, after visibly swallowing. His voice was different in his Jötunn skin; deeper, older.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to say.

“Sherlock, I…” Loki must’ve realised he was staring at me, because he suddenly looked away so I couldn’t see his red eyes anymore. “I know what I did it’s unforgivable, so I don’t expect you to just forget about everything. I just…”

He trailed off, and there was silence for a moment. I couldn’t hear the distant battle anymore.

“He just died.” I looked up and forced him to hold my gaze. “He just died, and you’re talking about forgiveness. He… his body is here, and you are talking about us.”

Loki wavered.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Leave me alone, Loki.” Saying his name hurt.

“I should give you space. You probably don’t want to see me again. That’s fair.” He made a pause, and flexed his fingers tentatively. “If you ever… If I can… I… You know where to find me. I just want you to be happy.”

With that, he waved and disappeared.

He was gone too.

He’d left me, they’d both left me.

A part of me knew I should move, try to find the Avengers and get out of here, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t leave John here, alone. So I stayed. And I cried.

Tony found me not much later, still bent over the cold chest of the first man I ever loved.

 

* * *

 

Days passed, then weeks, then months. People got on with life. They cried, they grieved, they moved on. Molly took longer, if only because she was the only one who cried for Moriarty, and carried the burden of his death on her own. I tried to comfort her, as friends do, but I didn’t know _her_ Moriarty, only mine, and mine had caused so much pain and suffering.

The Avengers tried to contact me at first, to check in with me, see if I was okay (I wasn’t) and then SHIELD to try to get me to work for them (I didn’t).

Loki didn’t try to contact me.

For the first couple of weeks I only cried. Sometimes there were tears, sometimes there weren’t. I didn’t get out of bed, and that made it worse: everything reminded me of him. Every single corner and detail of 221B reminded me of John, and every single memory was tainted by the sight of the pool of dark red blood he’d died in.

I cried, and then I just didn’t. It made no sense to cry. He wasn’t coming back. So why cry? There was no point. I turned all my energies to work. Cases, cases, cases. Most of them weren’t even worth my time, but I took them anyway. I needed something to do, something to keep my mind occupied. I missed him.

Loki still hadn’t contacted me.

I missed them both.

Somewhere in the fourth month I realised I wasn’t actually angry at Loki. Yes, he’d lied to me and destroyed my relationship with John, but in the end it didn’t matter. Moriarty would’ve still killed him. If not because he defied his stupid game, then just to hurt me, or just because. For _fun_. What Loki did was horrible, but that wasn’t what killed him. I understood why he did what he did, and I knew his whole history, so it wasn’t hard to understand him. He loved me, and it was a cruel kind of love, but it had evolved since, and I truly believed he was better for it. We were stronger together, and I loved him.

I love him.

It took me a long time to realise that. I love Loki. I loved John, and I miss him dearly, but I didn’t love him when he died. Not in that way.

I thought about what they’d both said that day. Before he died, John had asked me to forgive, and to be happy. Loki told me he’d give me space, and to do what I needed to be happy. For months I hadn’t even thought about what that meant, but now I knew.

I would never forget John. How could I? But he wasn’t my future; he was my past. I was my own present, but I wanted Loki to be my future.

He’d told me to go find him if I ever wanted to see him. And now I wanted to. All these months of solitude and isolation had only amplified what I felt before. I miss him. I love him. I want him.

I decided then what I would do, but it still took me a couple of days to find where he was, and another two weeks to plan the trip. It wasn’t an easy place to reach. It was, after all, designed to be a hiding place, away from the world and prying eyes. But we had spent months there, alone, and so I remembered enough of the landscape to be able to deduce the exact location.

I didn’t even know if he was there. All he’d said was, you know where to find me. This was the only logical place. He wasn’t living with the Avengers anymore, and he couldn’t return to Asgard. I didn’t know if he just wanted to be alone, or this was his way of penance, of if he just wanted to survive. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care.

I just hoped he hadn’t moved on from me.

I reached the clearing where the cottage was supposed to be, and sighed in relief when the familiar silhouette appeared before my eyes. He _was_ here. But maybe he was out on an errand of some kind. What if he wasn’t home? Should I go in, wait inside? Outside? It was quite cold, colder than I remembered.

Slowly, I walked up to the front door. I was sure there were traps around the house, but I hadn’t tripped any. Or at least any that I had noticed.

_What do I do? Knock? Do I knock?_

_Yes, that seems like the appropriate thing to do._

I knocked lightly, and for a moment I was afraid Loki wasn’t there, or that he hadn’t heard me. But a couple of seconds later I noticed movement inside the house, and the door opened.

My breath got hitched on my throat, and for a moment I could only observe him. God, he was _beautiful_. He was back in his Æsir skin, long hair in a carefully constructed messy bun, lips chapped by the cold, and green eyes that had none of the vicious or careful red they had the last time I saw him.

He gasped lightly, then muttered a soft _oh_.

For a minute, none of us said anything. Then:

“Sherlock” he breathed, the word like a prayer on his tongue.

“Loki.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked. There was no malice or resentment in the question, just curiosity and a tinge of excitement he tried to hide.

“I came for you.” Before he could say anything, I raised a finger to stop him from talking. “Let me speak first. Before you left, you told me to be happy. For a long time I didn’t know what that meant, or what I even needed to be happy. When John was alive, and I was with him, I thought I knew. I was happy, and I thought that exact combination of situations was the only way I could be. But lately, since you appeared that night in my bedroom in 221B, things have changed. I fell in love with you, and out of it with John, and… I don’t know, maybe even if you hadn’t made us all believe he was a spy for Moriarty I would’ve still chosen you. I don’t know. What ifs and maybes are of no use now.” I made a pause. I was ranting. “What I mean is, before he died John told me to forgive, and love, and be happy. And I’ve realised that means you. I don’t blame you for his death. I just want to try and be happy. With you.”

“Sherlock…”

Oh god. This was a mistake. He didn’t feel the same way. I had assumed he did, but it had been months, and he was a god, so maybe things were different with him.

“I understand” I blurted out. Better get over with this as fast as possible. “You don't want me. I’ll go now.”

I turned to leave, not even sure about how to get back home, and hoping I could fight the tears, at least until Loki couldn’t see me anymore. Then I felt a hand grab me by the arm. I went to see what he wanted, even though whatever he said was probably going to break my heart.

Instead of words, I found lips.

He kissed me tentatively at first, gauging my reaction. I hadn’t expected this, but I soon recovered from the initial shock. Loki’s lips were soft and cracked and just a bit needy. I had missed this. I had missed the feeling of his lips on mine, of his hands running through my hair, his little gasps against my mouth, his scent like pine and earth. I had missed him.

When I tried to deepen the kiss, he pulled back slightly, but enough for me to feel the cold air of winter. He pressed his forehead against mine as his fingertips caressed his way up my neck and rested on my cheek.

“Sherlock” he muttered, and it was barely audible even at this distance. “Yes, yes, yes. A million times yes. I’d love to be happy with you. I love you I love you I love you.”

I kissed him again, and felt his smile against my lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.  
> I can't believe I've finally finished this. I started it when I was 16 one night I had a crazy idea and since I never finish writing anything this fic became a kind of punishment/challenge and I promised myself I would finish it.  
> It's actually horrible I don't know why you've read it.  
> But thank you.


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